A Revolutionary Heart
by Rosebud5
Summary: When Combeferre needs to perform a physical examination on somebody for his medical studies class, Enjolras becomes the lucky "volunteer." However, during the exam, 'Ferre discovers that something is wrong with Enjolras's heart...That heart that's always and forever beating for Patria. NOT SLASH. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Hello all! Yes, here's ANOTHER Enjolras fic... Another humanizing one, too. I seem to write those a lot. But this one's a bit different... Hope you enjoy! Please let me know in a review if you do!

**A huge thanks to frustratedstudent who gave me some professional advice on 1830's medicine... I so appreciate it! **

Disclaimer: I am not Victor Hugo. If I was, I would be dead. And famous. And a man.

~Rosey

* * *

**A Revolutionary Heart**

"Enjolras," Combeferre declared as he walked into the apartment he and the revolutionary leader shared. "I need you to take your shirt off."

Julien Enjolras's shimmering blond head snapped up from where he was hunkered over his schoolwork, an eyebrow raised skeptically over his icy blue eyes. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's for a class," the other young man said simply. He put down his bag on his bed and crossed his arms.

"What kind of a class is that?" Enjolras blinked, his voice rising an octave.

"Medical studies," Combeferre replied, offering his friend a sheepish smile. "I'm supposed to give someone a physical examination."

"A physical examina...Why?"

"Only the basics," Combeferre went on quickly. "Only what we've learned so far. Pulse rate, temperature, reflexes, thyroid, heart beat, that sort of thing."

"I'd rather not," Enjolras chuckled dryly, looking back down at his own schoolwork. "I have an essay due on Tuesday. Why not ask one of our other _amis_?"

"Well I tried," Combeferre sighed, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "But Grantaire was too drunk, Feuilly was so eager to help he almost cut out his own kidney with my scalpel, Courfeyrac is so anxious about doctors he literally ran away, it's dangerous to talk about medicine to Joly because he will diagnose himself with the Spanish influenza before you can so much as-"

"Alright, alright!" Enjolras laughed a little, holding up his hands defensively. "If I let you do this, then will you leave me to my studies?"

"I promise!" Combeferre grinned. "Thank you so much, Julien!"

"You're welcome. I guess I really should be happy to oblige, since it's for a class and all…Finally deciding to actually do the work your assigned then?" Enjolras offered his friend a rare teasing smile, setting his pen aside and getting to his feet. "What do you need me to do then?"

"Well, unfortunately, I really do need you to remove your shirt, though I suppose I could have asked with more tact," Combeferre replied, going over to where his brand new medical bag lay at the foot of his own bed.

"It seems a little invasive," the Apollo-esque young man grumbled. But nevertheless, he began to remove his waistcoat and cravat, setting them aside and starting in on the buttons on his shirt.

"Sorry, _mon ami,_" the medical student beamed. "But as your _doctor…"_

"Alright, alright," Enjolras laughed a little, finally removing his shirt and setting it aside, shivering slightly as the cool air of the room brushed against his bare, marble like skin, startlingly pale against his dark black trousers. "Now what do you need me to do?"

"Sit down. It'll only take a bit, I promise," Combeferre gestured to Enjolras's bed, where the beautiful young man shrugged slightly, taking a seat where he was told to. The medical student approached the bed, putting his bag on the mattress and setting a sheaf of paper and a quill by it, ready to take notes. "Right," he said in a professional tone, straightening and rubbing his hands together. "First I'm going to check your temperature, alright?"

"Sounds fine to me," Enjolras shrugged, honestly not paying attention to his friend's words, his mind already back on the essay. "Just please do hurry. I must complete my paper."

"I promise to go as quickly as I can, but still be through enough for my Professor," Combeferre smiled a little at his friend's dedication to his studies. "Now hold still for a minute."

To his credit, Enjolras did obligingly sit still as his Combeferre turned back to his friend, thermometer in hand, shaking down the mercury before holding it out to Enjolras. "Put this-"

"Don't tell me. Under my tongue?" Enjolras teased dryly, doing as he was told.

"Oh, you're just _so _hysterical," Combeferre rolled his eyes. He paused for several moments, watching his watch impatiently as the minutes ticked by, before reaching over and pulling the glass stick out of Enjolras's mouth, squinting at the numbers through his wire-framed glasses. "98.7," he grinned over at his friend. "One degree above average. Joly would suggest you begin to write your will."

Enjolras laughed at this, thinking fondly of his hypochondriac friend. "That he would. So what's next then?"

After about ten minutes, the examination was finally coming to a close. Combeferre was checking the glands in Enjolras's throat, and Enjolras had begun to fidget, ready to get back to work on his essay.

"And swallow- Enjolras! For the love of France, would you just sit still? I just have to finish here and check your heart and I'll be done!" Combeferre begged desperately as the blond man before him jiggled his leg up and down nervously.

"Sorry," the younger man sighed, swallowing as his friend told him to, wincing as Combeferre's fingers probed at the glands his neck. "I just cannot put off this essay another minute, truly…"

"Enjolras, please!" Combeferre pleaded, scribbling down notes and reaching for his stethoscope from his medical bag… A long trumpet looking object, with one wide end to rest on the patient's chest and a smaller end to go in the doctor's ears. "Just let me listen to your heart and lungs and I'll be done!"

Something fleeted across the back of Enjolras's mind, but he ignored it, his worry about getting his essay done overwhelming as he sighed, sitting back a little to give the medical student more full range of his chest and lungs. "Fine. But please do hurry."

"I'm trying," Combeferre rolled his eyes, putting the smaller end of the stethoscope into this ears and lowering the wide bell onto his friend's chest.

Combeferre professionally placed one hand on his friend's back and used the other to move the bell-like end of the stethoscope across his friend's chest, listening to his heart and lungs. His brows furrowed a little, and he moved the bell to Enjolras's back, mumbling "Just in and out, Enjolras," quietly, almost distractedly.

"Are we done then?" Enjolras asked almost crossly when Combeferre finally pulled back, scribbling like mad in his notes. "I have to write-"

"Your essay, I know," Combeferre muttered, but his voice sounded a little distant. Finally, he spoke again. "Hold on just one moment. I think I made a mistake."

"Alright," Enjolras sighed, willing to help his friend for a little bit longer. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just sit still," Combeferre replied in doctor-gentility before lowering the wide bell of the stethoscope to Enjolras's chest again.

This time, Enjolras's thoughts suddenly registered, and he pulled back from his friend's gentle touch. "I'm fine, Combeferre…"

"Your heart… It's…It's beating sort of…off-kilter," the medical student stumbled over his words, worry evident in his face as he pulled the smaller end of the stethoscope out of his ears.

Enjolras was still for a moment before nodding slightly, offering his friend a little smile. "Well of course it is! My friend comes barging in the room, telling me to quit working on my essay and take off my shirt so I can be a school project… I'm a little stressed!"

"But it's so…irregular, Enjy…"

"Don't call me that," Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Honestly, it's bad enough when Grantaire calls me Apollo but I'm not Apollo and I'm not Enjy, I'm just Enjolras, or Julien if you'd like or-"

"Julien."

"Yes?"

"Quit trying to change the subject."

"I'm not trying to change any subject!" Enjolras said defensively as he got to his feet. "Now if you're quite finished, I'm off to finish my essay, thank you very much."

Flushed and obviously a little shaken, Enjolras grabbed his vest up off the floor and yanked it on, not even thinking that he wasn't re-dressed properly, and stormed over to his desk where he sat down, head in his hands, staring at the papers before him.

Combeferre froze behind him, a million questions racing through his mind. All he managed though was a meek little "Enjolras? I think you're forgetting something."

The beautiful young man glanced down at himself, reddened, and then got to his feet again, tugging off the vest and grabbing his shirt, pulling it back on. "Well you distracted me, Combeferre," he grumbled. "I was very focused on my work and you made me lose track of the time and now I'll never finish it."

And as the revolutionary plopped back down at his desk, beginning to write furiously, the medical student remained behind him for several minutes, sheer worry etched across his face.

_That Night, 11:00 P.M._

"Good night, Julien," Combeferre mumbled from his bed in the darkness the engulfed the room he and Enjolras shared.

He heard the other man shift a little in his own bed before a tired "Good night, 'Ferre," came back through the dark.

Combeferre sighed a little and rolled over, trying desperately to shut his mind off and fall asleep. But his thoughts wouldn't leave him alone. There had been something definitely off about Enjolras's heartbeat earlier, and it wasn't just that it was racing quickly, as if he was stressed. It sounded…strange. Muffled a little, and very inconsistent. Uneasily, Combeferre opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sooner than he had, then did Enjolras's voice once again come from the darkness, simply, and calmly.

"You do not have to worry about me, 'Ferre. It's nothing horrible, and I've had it since I was a kid. Abnormal heart rhythm. It runs in the family."

Combeferre was silent for a moment, letting this sink in. Heart problems? Enjolras? Of course, the noble leader had never told him… He had never told anybody. It made him… Vulnerable? Not so other-worldly? Something. Finally, the medical student found his words. "I'm… I'm sorry, Julien…"

"It's nothing to be sorry about. I've had it forever, and it really doesn't effect me at all. Once in a while it hurts, like a sharp twinge in my chest, but that's about it. And that's about every other month or so. It's really nothing big," Enjolras mumbled quietly in the darkness.

Combeferre lay still for another moment before whispering softly. "So… Is that why you're so unafraid to die in the revolution?"

"This won't kill me, Combeferre," Enjolras chuckled a little, making the medical student blink a little at the blond's reaction. The two were quiet for a moment before Enjolras's voice came from the dark again. "But I'd be willing to die for Patria either way."

For some reason, this made the older student smile a little. "Of course you would, Julien. Of course you would."

And with that, the two fell silent, and soon fast asleep.

* * *

And that's the end! I hope it was enjoyed. Please review if you liked it, hated it, or have any ideas or suggestions!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	2. Chapter 2

Hello everyone! Soooo I totally wasn't expecting to write more in this, but lemondropseverus left me a lovely review, and after several PMs, I have decided to continue this story and make it a chapter book! MAJOR thanks to lemondropseverus, who not only helped with a lot of the plot line and ideas, but gave Ferre his lovely first name;-) Also huge thanks to my cousin Brianna, who is basically co-writing some of the later chapters with me over text daily. I hope you all enjoy this continuation! Please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I mean... I'm still not Victor Hugo...So...

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Two:

Combeferre woke up at five thirty and could not go back to sleep.

No matter how hard he tried to shut his brain off and roll back over to try and sleep again, each time his eyes shut, his mind started racing with worries about what he had discovered about his best friend, leader, and roommate Julien Enjolras only hours ago.

_Heart problems._

_Enjolras has heart problems._

_He never told you. _

_You've known him for fifteen years. And you didn't know he had heart problems. _

_Julien_ _Enjolras_ _has a physical flaw. _

_Heart problems._

Finally, the medical student quit trying to sleep again and sat up in bed, running a hand through his brown hair, reaching for his glasses off his bedside table and slipping them on. Squinting through the dark, he was just able to make out the outline of Enjolras's sleeping form on his bed on the other side of the room. The wild blond hair was the only thing visible above the sheets that covered the revolutionary leader. Hesitating for a moment, Combeferre slipped out of bed and shuffled over to his friend, peering through the darkness, the only light coming from the full moon shining outside the window.

Enjorlas lay on his stomach, one arm under his pillow, the other under his head. His hair was a tumbled mess, covering his face. His angelically beautiful countenance looked peaceful, his lips slightly parted, his eyes shut, lids fluttering slightly as he doubtless dreamed about a better tomorrow for France.

Combeferre smiled slightly and reached out to push some of the blond's hair off his face. He then sighed a little and took a seat in a chair by the bed, and focused on his friend's breathing. That was the true reason he had gone over to the revolutionary's side... He was scared for Enjolras, no matter how much he had insisted that he believed his friend's words of "it's not a serious condition." Never before had Combeferre worried for Enjolras's health, for Enjolras never seemed to have anything physically wrong with him. Now, the medical student was worried that he had been overlooking the blond's ailments, and swore to himself to question Enjorlas if he so much as sniffled a little.

Combeferre rested his chin in his hands and watched Enjolras's breathing pattern. The covers rose and fell steadily, but the caring young man was still anxious. Watching Enjolras for a few more seconds, the bespectacled man got to his feet and gently walked over to the revolutionary and gingerly held out a hand in front of his friend's nose and mouth. The breaths seemed relatively normal, though some did indeed hitch a little. Suddenly, Enjolras let out a little snore and rolled over onto his side, facing away from his friend, one arm going up over his head, the other almost adorably grabbing another pillow in a tight grasp like an embrace.

Combeferre sighed, running a hand through his hair. Well, no use just standing there watching Enjolras sleep. Might as well do something productive. And with that, the medical student took a deep breath and headed in toward the kitchen.

XXXXXXX

"Morning, Enjolras," Combeferre smiled at his friend as the blond revolutionary shuffled sleepily into the kitchen a few hours later.

"Hmmm," Enjolras mumbled, going over to the kitchen table and sitting down, resting his head on the table top, his hair spilling around him. Though the stoic young man was usually completely awake and alert, it usually took him about an hour after waking up to fully be himself again.

"I made omelettes!" the medical student grinned, sliding a plate in front of Enjolras's head. "Your favorite."

Enjolras rose his head sleepily, glanced at the omelette, and then looked up at Combeferre. "How long have you been up?"

"The appropriate response is usually 'thank you,'" Combeferre chuckled a little as he took a seat by his friend's side.

"Well thank you," Enjolras gave his friend a little smile, sliding his plate closer to himself and taking a bite. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before facing Combeferre again. "All this... It isn't about what I told you about last night is it?"

"Of course not!" the older student shook his head quickly. "Just couldn't sleep last night is all."

"Because I promise you it's nothing serious-"

"No, I know-"

"I've always had-"

"I just thought you might want an omelette-"

"-this since I was a kid-"

"Which is why I'm surprised and just a little hurt that you've never told me."

The room fell silent, an awkward tension rising between the two friends. Enjolras looked down at the plate before him, digging his fork into the omelette, and Combeferre nervously took off his glasses to wipe them on his shirttail. After placing them back on his nose, he sighed a little and looked down at the table before him, suddenly very interested in a stain on the wood.

"I am sorry I never told you before," Enjolras finally broke the silence, running a hand across the back of his neck, poking a glob of cheese in the omelette with his fork. "I just... Never thought to. I've learned to live with it, 'Ferre."

"It's just... it's your _heart _Enjolras. It's not like you have...swollen tonsils. It's your _heart_. And it worries me," Combeferre sighed a little. He was quiet for a moment before he looked over at the younger man. "Because I care about you, Julien. And I cannot imagine a life without you."

"And you don't have to," Enjolras mumbled quietly, offering his friend a little comforting smile. "I promise I'll be fine. Now I have to start getting ready for the meeting. Remember _les amis _ are meeting in the morning today," Enjolras put on his professional, revolutionary-leader face and got to his feet, giving Combeferre a diplomatic smile. "Thank you for the breakfast, _mon ami_. I'll see you at the meeting?"

Combeferre watched Enjolras for a moment before sighing a little, nodding. "I'll see you there."

And as Enjolras turned to go, the medical student called after him once more. "And Julien?"

"_Oui?"_

"Just...Take care of yourself."

"Don't I always?" Enjolras chuckled as he went into his room to change.

"No," Combeferre muttered under his breath. "And that's what scares me."

* * *

And thus ends chapter two! What do you guys think? If you'd like, please REVIEW! I know this chapter is a little short, but the next one shall be much longer, so keep an eye out!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	3. Chapter 3

Hey all! Wow, what kind feedback on chapter two! I'm so glad you all are enjoying this so far! Here's chapter three... It shall be a little longer, and quite more dramatic... For this is where the true story begins. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Again, thanks to lemondropseverus and my cousin for the ideas for this chapter, and, again, I am still not Hugo.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Three:

"And Jehan, will you take Lorraine?" Enjolras instructed, turning to the young poet at the meeting later that morning. The blond revolutionary was assigning each _ami _a separate town in France to go and deliver a speech at, trying to rally the people all over the city. "_Merci_."

As Jean grinned and nodded, turning and racing out of the cafe, Enjolras sighed a little and jumped off his ever-popular stance atop the table before facing Combeferre, who was the only one who hadn't been told where to speak at yet. "'Ferre, you take Toulouse, and I'll go to Nord Pas-de-Calais."

Combeferre looked up in alarm from where he was flicking through the pamphlets Enjolras had given them at the start of the meeting, arching an eyebrow. "Enjolras, if you really think you'll take on Nord Pas-de-Calais all by yourself-"

"And why not?" the younger man crossed his arms. "I've spoken there many times before."

"Yes but...It's so dangerous there, Enjolras...So many people..." Combeferre mumbled as he looked down at his hands nervously. "I just don't think you should..."

"Combeferre," Enjolras's voice held a note of coldness as he gathered up some extra pamphlets and began to head toward the door. "I must ask you to please not treat me any differently than you did before you found out about my little heart condition. I've spoken there a hundred times before, and today will not be any different. I'll see you when we all meet up again this afternoon." And with that, the blond was gone.

The medical student sighed a little and swallowed nervously. He knew Enjolras would doubtless be just fine speaking at Nord Pas-de-Calais, just as he was fine speaking there several times in the past. But now that Combeferre knew about his friend's heart condition... Whether Enjolras wanted it or not, the older student was desperately worried for him. The bespectacled student thumped the pamphlets up and down anxiously in the palm of his hand for a moment before he gave in and got to his feet, grabbing his bag and hurrying out the door.

But not, of course, toward Toulouse.

Toward Nord Pas-de-Calais.

XXXXXX

By the time Combeferre managed to find Enjolras, the revolutionary leader was already in the middle of his impassioned speech, about fifty citizens standing about and listening to him with wide eyes and occasional cheers. Enjolras stood on an old crate outside a decaying building, but despite his seedy surroundings, he still managed to look majestic and god-like. Indeed, he seemed to radiate, his wild blond hair ruffling around his marble face, illuminated in the sunlight, his shining blue eyes fired with revolution, his strong, hymn-like voice carrying powerfully across the crowd.

Combeferre stepped behind a wall and watched his friend from a safe distance. It was incredible, really, that this Apollo-like young man was only hours ago snoring and hugging a pillow like a lifeline. Little would any of these people think, listening so intently now, that only that morning the blond marble statue was falling asleep at the kitchen table over an omelette.

Of course, the thing Combeferre was thinking most about was Enjolras's heart. That heart that was beating so passionately for freedom, pumping the blood through those veins that stuck out a little on Enjolras's forehead as he projected his voice like thunder, holding so much love for the people and France... It was faulty. Inside that perfect chest beat an imperfect heart. How on Earth was such a god-like man that tragically flawed? As Combeferre meditated on this, Enjolras continued to deliver his speech, unaware of the other revolutionary's presence.

"And I must emphasize that you are not an army for us, my friends, we are an army for you! The time is drawing near, my friends! The time to at last give a voice to those who have none! To rise and bring the world equality! A government run by the people, for the people! Does the king see you suffering and cold in the streets at night?! No! He sees his silken pillows and golden crowns! It is not only this, it is-"

But Enjolras suddenly paused here, his passionate face holding a hint of worry. For suddenly three handsome horses appeared behind the crowd, carrying national guards. The people at the back of the crowd turned and instantly panicked, some screaming, others beginning to shout "Death to the king!" This of course spurred the rest of the audience to spin around and soon the entire gathering was burst into chaos. Enjolras struggled to project his voice through the crowd, but even his powerful tone was no match for their screams.

"Don't let them scare you! They have no grounds for arrest! Just stay calm! We meet every afternoon, information in your pamphlets!" Enjolras tried to comfort the crowd, but nobody was listening anymore. Instead, the attention was drawn to a young woman who had taken up the cry of "Death to the King!" and was trying to attack a guard. The man was threatening her with his club, and suddenly brought it down on her head, causing her to scream.

"You cowards!" Enjolras roared, bolting off his crate and racing over to the scene of the crime, shoving his way through the crowd. He reached the sobbing young woman, no older than himself, gently pulling her away from the guards. "Are you alright, _mademoiselle?_" But no sooner did he do this than did he feel the club strike him on the back and he stumbled forward, gasping as he felt the breath get knocked out of him.

"_Enjolras_!" Combeferre cried, bolting out from behind the wall, trying to get over to his friend.

Enjolras, not hearing the other revolutionary's screams, only heard the guard above him shouting "_Monsieur de la révolution_, you are under arrest for public disturbance."

"_Monsieur, _get out of here!" the young woman he had helped begged, blood trickling from the wound on her temple.

"Take care of that injury," Enjorlas managed to get out, struggling to catch his breath as he squeezed her shoulder quickly. "And if you want to join our cause-"

"Just get out of here!" she cried, shoving him away from the national guard towards a back ally.

Enjolras hesitated for a moment, hating to leave the people fighting without him. But suddenly the national guard who had hit him with the club rode up right behind the blond revolutionary, brandishing his stick again, blocking him from the crowd. "Don't try and run, monsieur! It will only increase your sentence!"

"Go!" the young woman screamed, shoving Enjolras away from the horse and ducking into a near by wine shop herself. Only when Enjolras was sure she was safe did he take off at a sprint away from the guard, unaware that Combeferre was only yards behind him, watching in horror.

The medical student raced after Enjolras, who was still being pursued by the national guard on the horse. Fortunately, Enjolras was an incredibly fast runner, and obviously much more nimble than an elderly man on a giant horse. The blond slid under a passing cart, turning and ducking into another ally, causing the national guard to have to wait for the cart to pass before he followed the student down the ally. Combeferre, heart pounding, remained hot on their heels, racing after the guard.

This chase went on for several more minutes, and there were several times Combeferre thought he lost them, giving him mini panic attacks each time. Finally, Enjolras turned down an ally too narrow for the horse to fit through and the national guard hesitated for a moment and then apparently decided that some revolutionary student was not worth the pursuit anymore, for he muttered a foul word under his breath before yanking on the reigns and turning his horse around, trotting right past Combeferre, who was hiding behind a stack of old crates.

When the medical student was sure the guard was gone, he bolted out from his hiding place and raced toward the ally. "Enjolras!" he called, skidding into the ally's entrance. "Enjolras, are you-"

But he froze in horror, unable to carry on with his sentence. Enjolras was bent over, supporting himself with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily, his face unbelievably pained. One hand went to his chest, claw-like, and he stumbled, catching himself on the bricks of the wall. His eyes grew wide, and he slid down the wall to a sitting position on the ground, his breath catching in his throat. After a moment, he squeezed his eyes tightly, breathing heavily again, lowering his head between his knees, one hand still over his heart, the other clutching his knee, his knuckles white, his wild blond hair fluttering limply, sadly, in the cool breeze.

Combeferre finally found his footing and bolted over to his friend's side, kneeling down and putting a hand on Enjolras's shoulder. "Julien...?"

Enjolras's head instantly snapped up, and his pained eyes grew cold. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at Toulouse."

"Bloody good thing I'm not," Combeferre mumbled, rubbing Enjolras's back comfortingly. "We need to get you home-"

"You don't need to _get _me anywhere," Enjolras's voice was re-gaining strength and he attempted to rise, but his legs didn't seem to want to work at the moment. "You were supposed to be giving your speech in Toulouse. Not following me around like you're my mother."

"It's a good thing I did, though. Enjolras, you need to rest-"

"I _need_ to go make sure everyone's alright back there," Enjolras snapped, finally managing to push himself up, shrugging off Combeferre's hand as he tried to help him. Enjolras swayed a little when he got to his feet, but he quickly supported himself on the wall and looked coolly at his friend as he stood. "I'll see you this afternoon, Combeferre."

"But Enjolras-!"

"_I'll see you this afternoon_," Enjolras interrupted, his eyes flashing. "I'm going back there now. _And don't follow me._"

And with that, Enjolras turned and walked out of the ally, his footing a little unsteady, but his head held high.

And Combeferre slid back down the wall and tried not to acknowledge the pricking at the back of his eyes.

* * *

Told you guys this chapter would be more story-line. ;-) What did you think? Rather dramatic, no?

If you have any feedback, please REVIEW!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys! Thanks to all who reviewed my last chapter... You're all too kind! I hope you all like this chapter too... It's more of a filler, but then the action picks up again in the next chapter! :-D Hope you all like it!

Disclaimer: I. Am. Not. Hugo.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Four:

Combeferre had not taken his eyes off Enjolras since the meeting began.

After arriving back, anxious and exhausted, from giving his speech in Toulouse, he had gone straight to the Musain, and was horrified when Enjolras wasn't there yet. Almost all the other _amis_ were present and accounted for, except Bousset who had an afternoon class, but the blond leader was nowhere in sight. He finally arrived about thirty minutes later, but Combeferre did not fail to notice the slight paleness in his friend's complexion, or the way his face held the tiniest hint of pain around the edges. Now, as Enjolras finished his impassioned speech atop the table, Combeferre sat at the edge of his seat, ready to spring forward if Enjolras so much as hinted that he might collapse as he did earlier.

"And that, _mon amis_, is why we must keep fighting! Keep getting the word out there, keep gathering recruits! That is the only way we will have a chance against the national guard... To have the people behind us! And to have them rally with us, they must know we are fighting for them. This is not for us, my friends! This is for Patria! This is for the people! _Vive la France!_" Enjolras finished passionately, thrusting a fist into the air.

"_Vive la France!_" the others shouted in unison, cheering for their noble leader as he climbed off his spot atop the table, his wild hair sticking to his forehead with a thin sheen of sweat, his breathing slightly labored.

Combeferre was instantly at his side, eyeing him anxiously as the others carried on with their business, not noticing the confrontation between the roommates. "'Jolras?" he asked quietly, using a rare nickname, hoping to keep the other man calm with the question he was about to ask. "Your heart...Is it-"

"I'm fine, Combeferre," Enjolras replied coolly, albeit a little breathlessly, crossing his arms and looking at his friend with an arched eyebrow. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Until I believe it," the older student replied. He kept his tone soothing and gentle, however, as he put a hand on his friend's back. "Just at least sit down for a little bit for me, please?"

"I don't need to, Combeferre. I'm fine. Honestly." His face softened a little, and he offered the other man a small smile. "But thank you for your concern."

"Hey, Enjy!" Grantaire's voice echoed through the room suddenly before Combeferre even had a chance to answer. "Come have a drink, would you?"

"One," Enjolras turned from Combeferre to face the drunkard with one of his speciality glares. "Don't call me Enjy. And two, I will _not_ have a drink, thank you. I have better things to do with my time than waste it drowning in the bottle."

"Like throwing your life away to a people who won't come when you call?" Grantaire grumbled, past the point of inebriated, taking another swig of wine.

"What was that?" Enjolras's eyes flashed furiously, and Combeferre took an anxious step back from his friend's side as the blond's face filled with rage.

"You heard me, Apollo," Grantaire slurred, getting drunkenly to his feet, stumbling.

"'Taire, stop it," Jehan was instantly at the drunkard's side, supporting him, shooting Enjolras an apologetic look. "He doesn't know what he's talking-"

"Yes I do," Grantaire argued drunkenly, shoving Jehan out of the way. "The people aren't going to come-"

"Well if that's how you feel, you're free to leave," Enjolras's voice rose, and Combeferre put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Julien, please calm down-"

"Maybe I should!" Grantaire shouted, interrupting the medical student. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I hate to see anyone leave the cause-"

"And that's all I am to you, isn't it?!" Grantaire roared. "A member of your bloody cause!"

"Grantaire, stop it right now," Jehan begged, taking hold of the drunkard's arm yet again. "You're drunk-"

"Of course he is!" Enjolras cried. "That's all he ever is! Grantaire, if you would just for once _put that bottle down_-"

But suddenly Enjolras froze, his words dying on his lips. His face went pale, and a pained expression soon followed as he put a hand on his chest, and he closed his eyes against the throbbing sensation. _No...Not again...Not for the second time today...This isn't normal..._

"Enjolras!" Combeferre was instantly at his side again, taking his friend's shoulders in his hands and looking him in the face. "Julien, are you alright?!"

"I'm fine," the blond revolutionary hissed breathlessly, pulling back, trying to hide the pain and fear on his face.

"No, you're not," Combeferre said as sternly as he could, feeling every pair of eyes fixed, concerned and confused, on him and the suffering revolutionary beside him. Even Grantaire had silenced and was watching with wide eyes. "Julien Enjolras you need to sit down-"

"Combeferre, please. I'm fine," Enjolras mumbled, but this time there was something different about his voice... Something that, if he hadn't been Julien Enjolras, might have resembled defeat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I should be getting back. I have a speech I need to write before tomorrow." And with one last glance around at his friends, offering them all a small smile, Enjolras grabbed his coat and left the cafe, his footing not exactly steady, his face still pale.

"'Ferre?" Joly was the first to seem to find his voice, and it came out quietly. "What was that all about?"

Combeferre was silent for a moment, and then he faced the group with a solemn, sad face. "Julien would not want me to tell you all... But I feel I should, for his own safety."

"What...What's wrong with him?" Courfeyrac asked nervously, getting to his feet, fear filling his dark eyes.

"I didn't find out until yesterday," the medical student mumbled, taking a seat and running a hand over his face. "But...our noble leader has been hiding something he should not have been. Something we as his friends should have known years ago."

XXXX

"Heart problems?" Bahroel asked in shock, his mouth agape. "But...But he's _Enjolras_! He's...He's Apollo."

"I think that's our problem," Combeferre mumbled quietly. "We look at him like an invincible god. But he's not. He's hurting, and he needs our help."

"I could have killed him," Grantaire's broken, still slurring voice came painfully. "There's so many times I make him so furious... I could have killed him..."

"Don't think like that, 'Taire," Combeferre mumbled quietly. "He said it's not serious. Now knowing Enjolras that might be an understatement, but I plan to keep a close eye on him and report any changes. Not to mention Courfeyrac and Joly live on the floor beneath us, so you all can stop by once in a while if I'm out of town just to keep an eye on him, right?"

"Of course," Joly nodded. "We'll come by even when you're there... We don't want to miss anything that might show something's wrong with our Enjolras. Right, Courf?"

But no response came.

The amis looked around anxiously, but there was no denying it.

Courfeyrac was gone.

* * *

Phew! That was a hard chapter! Glad it's over. Thank God for snow days and empty dormrooms! Well, what did you all think? Please review if you have the time!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	5. Chapter 5

Hey all! So here's chapter five... I'm so glad you all seem to be enjoying this so far! That means a lot! :-D

I thought I should let you all know this story takes place about a year and half before the Brick begins. So Enjolras is approximately twenty to twenty-one in this. I'm mainly setting it in musical verse, and therefore I see it taking place about two-ish years before the Revolution starts. However, if you're looking at it through the Brick, it's about five years before the revolution. It doesn't REALLY matter, but just to kind of give you an idea.

Oh and PS, this Courfeyrac is, in my head, Fra Fee, based off his adorable little performance and his adorable little self.

Disclaimer: Do you hear the author sing? Singing about how she's not Victor Hugo? Also, a huge thanks to my cousin Brianna, who basically co-wrote this chapter with me through text.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Five:

Enjolras sat at his desk, his head in his hands, trying to steady his racing, aching heart. This had to stop. He didn't have time for some silly heart condition that he thought he dropped in childhood. He had a revolution to plan, and class work to do. There wasn't time to be side-tracked by this nonsense.

A sudden knock at the door made the blond revolutionary look up, an eyebrow arched. Who on Earth could that be? The _amis_ should all still be at the meeting... Forcing himself to his feet, trying to ignore the pain in his chest, he went over to the door and cracked it open, glancing out into the hallway to see who this unexpected caller was.

Courfeyrac stood there, arms crossed, and something resembling hurt and anger filled his face. As soon as he saw the door crack, he arched an eyebrow, grabbing onto the door knob and tugging it open, facing the revolutionary with his hands on his hips. Enjorlas blinked, stepping aside a little to allow the brunette student into the room. "Courfeyrac? What's going on?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Courfeyrac demanded furiously, glaring at his friend with flashing brown eyes.

"Tell you what?" Enjolras sighed, having a sickening feeling he knew exactly what Courfeyrac was talking about.

"Your heart's broke!" the younger man practically exploded.

"Broken," Enjolras corrected dryly, turning from Courfeyrac to return to his position at his desk.

"It's broken too?!" Courfeyrac yelped, his eyes wide, striding over to his friend's side. "Who hurt you?!"

"No, no, Courf," Enjorlas groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Just... Forget about it, alright?"

"I can't 'just forget about it'!" Courfeyrac yanked up a chair to sit next to his dear friend. "Enjolras, I can't believe you didn't tell us. That's something you tell your best friends! You're dying, Enjolras!"

"I am _not _dying!" Enjolras snapped. "And I wish Combeferre had just kept his big mouth shut-"

"You are too dying!" Courfeyrac interrupted the blond. "Your heart doesn't work right!"

"It's something I've had since I was a kid. It hasn't killed me yet, and it won't kill me. Now if you'll excuse me, there's work I have to do-"

"I don't think so," Courfeyrac said with such conviction in his voice Enjolras stopped what he was doing and faced the brunette with confusion in his eyes. "Enjolras, you're not just going to let this go."

"I'm not letting it go. I'm simply dropping the subject," Enjolras argued, getting to his feet and going over to his window to look out across the starry night sky, avoiding Courfeyrac's hurt and angry gaze.

"Same bloody thing!" Courfeyrac stormed over to his friend's side, crossing his arms. "Enjolras, you're one of my best friends. I will not let you just shrug this off! Your _heart _is sick, Enjolras! Your heart, you hear me?! I love you too much to let you go because you're too foolish to keep something so drastic hidden from your friends! That's a foolish thing to do, Julien. A stupid, foolish thing. What if you ever got really sick? What would you do then? When we wouldn't know how to help you?! I can't believe you didn't even tell- Julien?"

Courfeyrac's words died on his lips and pure horror crept into his heart. Enjolras's eyes had slid shut, and pain was yet again etched across his features. A hand was over his heart, and his face had gone even whiter than usual in the moonlight.

"I'm fine," Enjolras mumbled through clenched teeth, but he stumbled as he said this, and latched onto the windowsill for support.

"No you're not!" Courfeyrac cried, putting a hand to Enjolras's shoulder. "Julien, this is what I was talking about! What am I supposed to do here?!"

"I don't know, Courfeyrac!" Enjolras shot back, something resembling panic in his voice, though his eyes were dangerously ablaze. He slid down the wall to a sitting position on the floor, his thoughts racing along with his aching heart. _No, God please no... This has to stop... Three times in one day... I can't do this again... This has to stop...I have the revolution I have the amis I have my classes I can't do this now..._

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," Courfeyrac lowered his voice, fear setting into his tone as he sat next to his friend and gently pulled him into an embrace. "Just breathe, Julien. Just let it pass."

Enjolras took a shuddering breath, and tried to speak, but only managed to clutch on to Courfeyrac's arm, grasping hard, not meaning to show this weakness but unable to stop himself as a sharp pain pierced through his chest. Courfeyrac just held on to him tighter, trying to calm his own racing heart.

Eventually, after a moment or so, Enjolras loosened his grasp on his friend's arm and fell back against the wall, breathless and pale. Courfeyrac let go of his friend slightly, but still remained at his side, rubbing his arm gently.

"That right there is why you should have told me," Courfeyrac said quietly, and his voice was laden with pure hurt. "If that had just happened and I didn't know about your heart, I would have lost my mind trying to figure out what was wrong and how to help you. You're scaring me, Julien. If I didn't know it wasn't horribly bad, I'd be racing off to find Joly or Ferre right this moment."

Enjolras was still for a moment before he opened his blue eyes again and glanced over at Courfeyrac, looking almost defeated. "I... I am sorry, Courfeyrac," he mumbled softly. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke again, the pain in his friend's eyes hurting his already thudding heart. "And, to tell you the truth, I don't know how bad it really is. I haven't been to see a doctor for it in a few years-"

"What?!" Courfeyrac's eyes grew wide, and his face went white. "Julien Enjolras, you mean to tell me you have a heart condition, and you haven't been to see a doctor in _years_?!"

Enjolras shrugged a little, still leaning back against the wall. "It wasn't a problem until just recently..."

"That does it," Courfeyrac's voice hardened, and he looked determinedly at the blond. "Tomorrow morning, you are going to see a doctor about this."

"I don't think so," Enjolras's voice grew fiery, regaining its strength. "I have a class tomorrow, and the meeting, and-"

"And a doctor's appointment," Courfeyrac said harshly, his usually kind eyes flashing. "If you don't go, I'll tell Combeferre about this little incident and you _know_ he won't let you hear the end of it."

Enjolras's face threatened to verge on terrible, his eyes blazing and the vein in his forehead rising. However, as soon as he was about to open his mouth, another pain stabbed his chest and he fell silent, closing his eyes and cursing under his breath. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, his voice softer, though still with an edge to it...That infamous Enjolras edge that let Courfeyrac know his friend was still the wild revolutionary under his hurting exterior. "If it will make you feel better, and get you all off my back. I'll go."

Courfeyrac's face softened, and he squeezed Enjorlas's shoulder. "Thank you, 'Jolras. And I'll go with you."

Enjolras huffed at this, rolling his eyes. "Courfeyrac, I'm not a child. I can go myself."

"Obviously you can't, or you would have gone years ago. And besides, you're nervous."

"I am not nervous," Enjolras snapped, his eyes blazing again.

At this, Courfeyrac reached over and took Enjolras's hand in his. He arched a knowing eyebrow, and gave his friend a devilish smirk. "Your palms and sweaty and disgusting."

"So?"

"So you're nervous, and I'm going with you."

* * *

Awww Courf... Little doll. I just adore that little bugger. Also, he will now always and forever have Fra's accent in my head. Thank you, Mr. Fee. Thank you so much for that.

So this chapter was a little harder for me to write... I do hope Enj was in character? Any reviews would be highly appreciated!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	6. Chapter 6

I am so sorry I haven't updated in forever! I've been super busy with school and a show, and am only now on spring break and able to sit down and write. Trust me, it bothers me too when people don't update and you're all like "HEY ARE YOU ALIVE OUT THERE?!" Well I promise I am indeed alive, and I am back with more Enjolras adorableness! Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't own any of the characters... Or Les Miserables... Let's face it, would I have to write fan-fiction if I did? And again, GIANT thanks to lemondropseverus and my cousin for all their help with this chapter! In fact, if it were not for lemondropseverus, I'd have never figured out what exactly WAS wrong with Enjy. So yeah. She's pretty fantastic. Go shower her with cupcakes.

**ALSO! Giant thanks to guineamania, who drew the cover for this story! You are awesome! GO READ HER STUFF, GUYS! She's fantastic!**

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Six:

"Enjolras, if you don't stop shaking your knee, you are going to cause an earthquake," Courfeyrac joked softly the following morning as he sat across from the blond revolutionary in the doctor's office.

"I'm not shaking my knee," Enjolras argued before quickly crossing his legs to keep his right leg from shaking so badly. "You don't have to wait in here with me, you know."

"It's freezing outside, of course I do," Courfeyrac winked. "Besides, whether you'll admit it or not, you're nervous. And what kind of a friend would I be to leave you alone in here without some company?"

Enjolras rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm not nervous."

"Don't make me do the palm test again."

The blond opened his mouth to argue, but looked down at his hands and quickly winced, wiping them on his trousers. "Alright, fine. I'm a little nervous. So sue me. I haven't been to see a doctor in over four years."

"Which is ridiculous," Courfeyrac mumbled. "What did 'Ferre say when you told him you were coming?"

"He just said it was about time," Enjolras replied, looking down. "He thinks I don't watch after myself enough."

"Well a bloody chair could have told you that," the younger revolutionary chuckled. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "How are you feeling this morning?" His voice was quieter, more gentle, as he asked this.

Enjolras shrugged, taking out his pocket-watch and hardly glancing at the time before putting it back, obviously scared to death. "Fine. I'm fine."

By this point, Enjolras had begun to shake his leg nervously again, and swallowing appeared hard for him. When he rose a hand to run it through his hair it shook, and that was his tenth time to "check the hour" in the past fifteen minutes. Courfeyrac let out a little sigh and strode over to Enjolras's side, sitting beside him on the padded table and putting a hand on his knee. Enjolras quit shaking his leg the moment his friend's hand made contact and he blinked a little, looking over at him.

"It's going to be alright, Julien," Courfeyrac whispered with a small smile. When Enjolras just gave a tiny, nervous nod, the younger man tried a different approach. "Hey. Remember when I broke my leg in that riot last year when I fell off the top of that carriage?"

"Yes," Enjolras answered hesitantly, looking over at him, not sure where his friend was going with this.

"I was scared then. I couldn't move it, and I thought it was paralyzed, remember?"

"I remember," Enjolras snorted a little. "And Joly wasn't any help either, just confirming your hysterical worries."

"And I was fine, now wasn't I?"

Enjolras was quiet for a moment before nodding. "Yes. You were."

"There you go," Courfeyrac gave him a little smile. He was silent for another second before speaking again, this time with more cheerfulness in his voice, obviously trying to distract his friend. "So any big plans for the meeting tonight?"

"A speech, of course," Enjolras replied, relaxing visibly as he began to talk about things in his element again. "And pamphlets to hand out. I think we need to start figuring out new places to speak, the areas we've been trying are rather-"

"Julien Enjolras?"

Enjolras's frame became tense again as he looked towards the door. An man who appeared in his late fifties, with a thick mustache and deeply lined eyes, stood in the doorway, wearing a suit and toting a large black medical bag. He stepped into the room as Courfeyrac scrambled off the table and made himself scarce in the corner in his chair.

"I'm Doctor Plamondon. It's nice to meet you," the man stretched out a hand, and Enjolras wordlessly shook it, his body stiff and his face far from its usual in-control appearance.

"It's n-nice to meet you too," Enjolras finally found his voice, though it was far from its usual eloquence. He glanced over at Courfeyrac, who gave him a comforting smile despite his own nervousness around doctors.

"Now, what seems to be the problem, Monsieur Enjolras?" Doctor Plamondon asked as he sat his bag down on the table and began to rummage through it's contents.

"I...erm..." Enjolras struggled to find his voice, fidgeting nervously on the table. "I have a heart problem. I've had it since I was a child, and for a very long time it didn't bother me at all. But recently it's gotten a little worse."

"Worse? Worse how?" the older man asked, regarding Enjolras with kind eyes as he took out his notepad and pen.

"Sharper and more frequent pains. Yesterday it happened three times. Usually it's just once or twice a month," Enjolras finished quietly, shifting again.

"Hmm... Interesting," Doctor Plamondon mumbled, scribbling on the notepad. "Alright, son. If you would please remove your shirt, we can begin the examination."

Enjolras winced at this, sending another glance in Courfeyrac's way. The younger man gave him a playfully-flirtatious wink and the blond couldn't hold back a soft chuckle before reluctantly removing his cravat, waistcoat, and shirt, shivering as he lay them aside. He then faced the doctor again, who had set aside his notepad and was waiting calmly for his patient to be ready.

"Alright, I'm going to test your pulse first, and then listen to your heart, if that's alright?"

Enjolras just shrugged, letting out a tiny nod, his muscles visibly tense under his marble skin.

"Relax please, Monsieur Enjolras," Doctor Plamondon mumbled, gently taking Enjolras's wrist in his hand to feel his pulse. The blond attempted to relax his muscles, but no sooner had he managed to do so than did the doctor move his hand to Enjolras's neck to feel the pulse there, causing Julien to tense again.

"Hmm...Interesting..." the older man muttered, pulling back and writing some notes. "Your pulse does seem a little irregular, son. I'm going to listen to your chest and back, and then I'll need to ask you a few questions, _oui_?"

Enjolras just nodded, his entire body tensed as the doctor pulled out a stethoscope identical to Combeferre's, placing the wide bell on the blond's chest.

"In and out," Doctor Plamondon mumbled, putting a hand on Enjolras's back. "And hold your breath for me..."

Enjolras did as he was told, sending another anxious look in Courfeyrac's direction. The younger revolutionary took a deep breath of his own and held it, offering the blond a kind smile. Enjolras relaxed slightly at this, and allowed the doctor to move the bell about his chest and back several times, breathing when he was told to, holding his breath when he was told to. Finally, Doctor Plamondon pulled back, setting aside his stethoscope and scribbling in his notepad.

"Well your heartbeat is rather irregular, Julien. Tell me, when the pains hit, what does it feel like?"

"Umm," Enjolras mumbled, his knee starting to shake again. "Sharp, and it goes through my chest and sometimes my shoulder and arm too. And I usually have to grab on to something or I fall."

Courfeyrac visibly tensed at this news, but the doctor just nodded, writing down these symptoms. "And is there ever pain elsewhere before these attacks occur?"

"Sometimes," Enjolras mumbled, nodding. "Usually it's in my hands or arms, but sometimes it goes a bit erm...lower," he grumbled, his face going red.

"I see," the doctor nodded calmly, writing this down. "And what triggers these attacks, usually?"

"Recently it's when I get very...passionate about something," the blond tried to phrase this properly. "I'm a...Law student. So I give a lot of speeches."

"He's a very passionately speaker," Courfeyrac spoke up, earning him an arched eyebrow from Enjolras.

"Hmm..." the doctor mumbled yet again, taking more notes. "Well, Monsieur Enjolras, I believe I know what you have."

"Of course. Abnormal heart rhythm," Enjolras nodded, shifting again. "I've had it since I was a kid."

"Well, abnormal heart rhythm is part of it," Doctor Plamondon nodded. "But it's just a part."

"A part of it?" Enjolras asked, his eyes growing wide, his body stiffening.

"_Oui_. Julien, tell me... Have you ever heard of Angina Pectoris?"

"N-no," Enjolras shook his head, going completely still and watching as Courfeyrac did the same. "Is it serious?"

"Generally, not too horribly serious. Some can live with it most of their lives with little complications. But you seem to have a more advanced condition, as it's gone untreated for the most part."

"So... What's the treatment?" Enjolras asked, trying to remain calm.

"Bloodletting is an option if it gets too bad. However, for the time, I'd say simply not overexerting yourself is your best option. If it gets too awful, contact me as soon as possible, understood?" Doctor Plamondon said kindly.

"He will," Courfeyrac spoke up before Enjolras could so much as utter a word. Ignoring his friend's glare, Courfeyrac just looked at the doctor with a face more serious than he had ever worn before. "I assure you. He will."

* * *

And that's the end of that chapter! I hope you all enjoyed! Please review if you have anything you'd like to say! :-D

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	7. Chapter 7

Hello everyone! So sorry I've been gone so long... College's been crazy. Anyway! Here's the next chapter...Finally. HUGE thanks to my cousin, who co-wrote this with me!

Disclaimer: Guys, I own nothing.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Seven:

Enjolras walked slowly out of the doctor's office, with Courfeyrac close behind. The blond revolutionary was obviously very upset and shaken over the news he had just received, though he tried to keep his face stoic. His entire life, he had assumed that all he had was abnormal heart rhythm, nothing more. Nothing so serious as Angina. Nothing so serious that his friends would doubtless coddle him and treat him like an invalid for fear of his heart rate going up or getting even more abnormal. What about the cause? What about the revolution?

Enjolras was torn from his thoughts at the feeling of Courfeyrac's hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "Hey, Enjolras," he mumbled softly. "You're going to be fine. Now that we know what to do, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

"Yes there is!" Enjolras snapped, eyes flashing. "I won't be able to help as much any more with the revolution because Ferre will be so over protective, and who knows when my heart will just give out on me and knock me off before I can even build a barricade..." he faltered off, hating himself for letting his emotions get the better of him.

"Don't," Courfeyrac said very forcefully, grabbing Enjolras's shoulders in a grip like a vice and glaring into his eyes. "Don't you ever say that. You are not going to die from this. You said so yourself. It doesn't work like that. And Ferre will only keep you from hurting yourself."

Enjolras tried to pull away, getting angrier. "Be honest, Courfeyrac! Will I ever be able to be as helpful to the cause again? Will I ever be able to do everything I want to do for the people? For Patria?!"

"You will be able to find a way to be just as useful as you were before, just in new or slightly changed ways," Courfeyrac kept his voice calm, not letting go of the blond's shoulders. "Like no more speeches alone in risky parts of town."

"Courf, I always give speeches alone," Enjolras argued, stubborn as always.

"Well now you can't," Courfeyrac said simply. "Not anymore. Enjolras, you don't have to do everything alone."

Enjolras fell silent for a moment before speaking again, searching for the words, allowing a tiny crack in his tough exterior in front of his dear friend. "I just... I don't know how to...accept help."

Courfeyrac snorted dryly. "Well, you have always been a fast learner. I'm sure you will get used to it, _mon ami._"

The blond revolutionary swallowed and almost, if he wasn't Julien Rene Enjolras, would have sounded defeated. "I just don't understand why this had to happen now..."

Courfeyrac rubbed his shoulders gently. "Enjolras, it doesn't matter now, alright? Maybe now is the best time for it to happen. The revolution is almost here, everything is going according to plan. In perspective, a little heart disease is nothing. Just a bend in the road."

"I just...I can't..." the blond stuttered, a far cry from his usual beautiful, planned speech.

And suddenly Courfeyrac's arms where around Enjolras's neck and he was hugging him tightly, burying his face in his friend's shoulder. "Yes you can. Everything will be fine. I promise."

Enjolras tensed at first, but within moments found himself hugging Courfeyrac back tightly, breathing deeply, trying to keep his emotions in control.

Courfeyrac just stood there, letting Enjolras lean on him. "I know you, and you aren't going to let something like this beat you," he mumbled softly.

Without even meaning to, Enjolras hugged him back tighter. "I know. I'll be fine."

After another moment, Courfeyrac pulled back, looking at the blond in the eyes. "Now say it like you mean it. And not one of those 'I'll be fine's to get me off your back. I mean one where you really think you'll be okay."

Enjorlas paused a moment, not making eye contact at first. "I'll be fine," he mumbled, trying to force his voice into a strong tone again.

Courfeyrac tilted his head a little, not sure if Enjolras meant this. "Enjolras? You know you really will, right? And that we all be here for whatever you need us to do."

Finally, Enjolras looked back up, his face stoic again. "Of course. I'll be fine."

"Enjolras..."

But Enjorlas just shook his head, fully himself again within the blink of an eye. "I. Will. Be. Fine."

Courfeyrac sighed a little, disappointed that the wall was back up again. "I know. Just...Please, don't shut us out again. You don't have to do it on your own."

Enjolras just gave him a little nod. "Alright. Thank you."

The brown haired student groaned a little, running a hand through his curls, exasperated. "Enjolras, why do you do this? Why do you turn your friends away when they just want to help?"

"Courfeyrac, can we please just drop this?" Enjolras grumbled, feeling that now-too-familiar painful tug in his heart.

"No!" the younger revolutionary growled. "I'm not gonna drop this so you can stay in your comfort zone!"

"Courf..." Enjolras mumbled a little quieter. He tried to keep his heart steady. "Courf, please..."

"What?" the other student snapped, still angry.

"I'm not in the mood, alright?" the blond pleaded with his eyes.

Courfeyrac blinked, horror in his eyes as he realized what was going on. "Enjolras, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to I just...I didn't mean to yell, I just hate seeing you try to deal with everything on your own."

Enjolras just swallowed, nodding at him with a weak smile. "It's fine. I'm fine, alright? If I need something, I'll let you know."

"Promise?"

The revolutionary leader looked away, suddenly very interested in the bark on a near by tree. "Alright. Sure."

"That is the saddest excuse for a promise I've ever heard," Courfeyrac rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms.

"Well it's all you're getting," the blond turned to go. He paused for a moment before speaking again. "I...I'm sorry."

"For what?" the younger boy rose an eye brow.

"For...everything, I guess," Enjolras shrugged slightly.

This brought an expected smile from Courfeyrac. "Don't be sorry for everything. Just try to let us in every once in a while. Now come on. We're going to be late to the meeting."

* * *

Phew! And there ya go! Chapter Seven! Keep an eye out for Chapter Eight within a day or two...I know exactly what will happen, I just have to type it up! Please, if you liked this or have advice, let me know in a review!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	8. Chapter 8

Hello everyone! Told you the next update would be soon! Two updates in one day...THAT is a record for me, my friends. I hope you're enjoying this so far, and stay revolutionary!

Disclaimer: Not Victor Hugo. (Did I forget to do this in my last chapter? Sorry. You all probably thought I had turned into Hugo.)

**Also, again, my cousin basically co-wrote this chapter with me, so yay her;)**

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Eight:

Two weeks passed relatively uneventfully, though the amis were unquestionably being far more protective and watchful of Enjolras, much to the blond revolutionary's annoyance. He was always accompanied when he went to speak, Courfeyrac was trying to take the load of the pamphlets himself so Enjorlas wouldn't have to hand them all out, and Combeferre had been watching the younger revolutionary like he was a time bomb due to explode. And thus the days passed, with Enjolras getting more and more put out, and the amis getting more and more protective.

One particular Friday afternoon, Enjolras was looking through his box of pamphlets after a meeting, making sure everything was in order for the next day. Grantaire, Combeferre, Jehan, and Courfeyrac were the only ones left in the Musain with Enjolras, and almost all of them were watching him with worried eyes. Combeferre was staring at him blatantly from across the table, while Jehan only glanced over occasionally, but looked as if he was on the verge of tears. Courfeyrac was again discreetly slipping most of the pamphlets from Enjolras's bag into his own. Only Grantaire seemed out of the present, as per usual, downing his fifth bottle of wine that night.

Enjolras, finally, broke the silence by turning, exasperated, to the other amis in the cafe. "Alright. Who thinks they're being smart and taking all my pamphlets?"

Courfeyrac looked up innocently. "What are you talking about?"

"I had many more pamphlets not five minutes ago," Enjolras crossed his arms, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"I really don't think you did," Courfeyrac shrugged, shaking his head.

"That seems a reasonable amount for one person," Combeferre spoke up as he nodded.

The blond revolutionary took a breath, getting angry. "Please, just give me my pamphlets back."

"And why do a few pamphlets matter so much?" Courfeyrac asked stubbornly.

"It's not just a few pamphlets! It's over half!" Enjolras's voice rose.

Jehan spoke up quietly from his chair. "Enjolras, it's alright. Just calm down..."

"I am perfectly calm!" Enjolras snapped.

"Julien you're yelling," Combeferre mumbled quietly as he went over to his friend's side tentatively.

"Well if I am it's because my friends are treating me like I'm some antique China platter!" the blond all but roared. He truly was not in the mood, and he was sick and tired of being treated like an invalid. He didn't know how much more he could take of this treatment.

Grantaire spoke up drunkenly from his place in the corner. "Well it's your fault for looking like a valuable statue that could shatter at any moment."

"Grantaire. Kindly shut up. Now is not the time," Combeferre muttered before turning back to Enjolras. "Julien, please just take a few deep breaths and relax. If Courfeyrac wants to help more, I don't see the harm in letting him."

"I am perfectly capable of passing out pamphlets on my own!" Enjolras argued, still highly agitated.

"I'm sure you are," Combeferre nodded, ever patient, putting a gentle hand on his younger friend's back. "But your plate is so full as it is..."

"I'm fine, 'Ferre..."

"And besides, it's not a good idea for us to go alone anymore..."

"You mean it's not a good idea for _me_," Enjolras growled, cutting Combeferre off with a terrible, furious voice.

"Well, things are getting more dangerous for all of us, with the revolution so near. It's not just you," the medical student soothed.

_"_He's just saying that," Grantaire slurred, causing every head in the Musain to turn his way. "You aren't fine. You have a messed up heart. So be a good boy and do as mother says."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that," Enjolras's voice held a threat in it and he glared vehemently at the drunkard.

"Just sayin' how it is. Revolution's as doomed as it's leader," the bigger man's voice rose.

The room fell deadly silent. A teary-eyed Jehan silently excused himself from the room, followed quickly by a concerned Courfeyrac. Combeferre fell still as a statue, his jaw agape and shock in his eyes. Enjolras's nostrils flared and his eyes blazed as he took a deliberate step towards the drunkard.

"Grantaire...I believe I didn't hear you correctly. I could have sworn you said the revolution was as doomed as it's leader," his voice was scarily calm and serene.

"No, Apollo, you heard me correctly," the scruffy man took a glug of his wine, impassive.

Enjolras continued to fume silently. "And you honestly believe that?"

Grantaire just shrugged numbly. "Yes. Your stupid revolution isn't going to lead to any actual change. The only thing you will get is a bunch of corpses in the street and a crack down on the poor afterwards."

"And you honestly believe I'm doomed too?" the blond continued to speak in a freakishly serene tone, his eyes holding the fire his voice withheld.

"Well it would explain why you don't care that you are leading a lost cause. You're dying anyway," the drunkard slurred, beyond inebriated, forgetting, or ignoring, his fears from when he learned about Enjolras's heart condition for the first time. He was so intoxicated that he didn't even care anymore. "You're going to die anyway, Apollo. Who cares if it's on a barricade or a bed?"

Taking a deep breath, Enjolras couldn't help but raise his voice slightly, trying to ignore the dull throbbing starting in his chest with every breath he took. "It's not a lost cause. There's no such thing as a lost cause. Except for you."

"Well then you clearly have a problem, Apollo. You seem as addicted to lost causes as I am to my drink."

"_How dare you compare our cause to your drink_," Enjolras growled viciously. He looked ready to kill Grantaire then and there if the other didn't continue speaking.

"Well you always say that my drinking will be the death of me. Is your silly little cause any different? At least I don't have any illusions about my life," Grantaire replied simply.

"The cause is no illusion, Grantaire," Enjolras spat. "It's real and beautiful and I will fight for it until my last breath."

"You need to wake up and live in the real world," the drunkard stumbled to his feet.

"The real world?! I don't want to hear your views on the real world! The real world is people dying in the streets and being suppressed and THAT is what we're trying to resolve!" Enjorlas roared, the throbbing in his chest growing sharper.

"They will not come! They see it's pointless! You're the blind one!" Grantaire cried back as he advanced towards Enjolras.

The blond took a deep breath, the pain starting to become worse. "Grantaire please...Just shut up. Just once."

"Maybe you should take your own advice and stop those stupid, incessant speeches long enough to look around you and see the fear in their eyes! Maybe you would see how fruitless this stupid cause is!"

Roaring, trying to ignore the sharp pain, Enjolras all but swung at Grantaire. "Shut up, for the love of God! You know nothing of the cause! You are incapable of understanding!"

"You're the one who doesn't understand! You're the one who doesn't see how scared the are-"

"_Well I'm scared too but I don't let that stop me from fighting for my Patria!" _

Grantaire fell silent, shocked at this confession of fear, his mouth agape and his breathing almost as ragged as Enjolras's. Finally, he just took a stumbled step back and sunk to the floor again. "You're going to die either way. I guess it doesn't really matter."

Shaking as if chilled by a cold wind, Enjolras just stood there for a moment before turning and bolting out of the Musain, ignoring Combeferre's worried shouts and Jehan and Courfeyrac's concerned calls. All he heard was Grantaire's voice over and over in his head. _"The Revolution is as doomed as its leader."_

* * *

Phew! And another one down! The story's FINALLY picking up, yay! I hope you all like it! Keep an eye out for chapter nine in a day or two, if not tonight... I'm in a very creative mood and need to find an excuse to put off my Health homework.

Please review if you liked it or have comments!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	9. Chapter 9

Third chapter today, guys. Never again. I'm so exhausted.

Disclaimer: Not Hugo. Cousin co-wrote this chapter. Lemondropseverus gave Ferre his first name. I'm tired.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Nine:

Combeferre raced after Enjolras out of the Cafe Musain as his friend stormed down the streets. "ENJOLRAS!" he cried after him. "ENJOLRAS WAIT!"

Enjolras whipped around, his face more terrible than the older student had seen it in a very long time. "I hate him, Combeferre!" the blond roared. "I hate him so much!"

Ever the calm one, the medical student put a calming hand on his friend's shoulder, speaking in a soothing tone. "I know. He is an idiot. Don't let him get you so riled up, what he said doesn't matter."

"Of course it doesn't!" the younger boy cried breathlessly, the pain in his chest amplifying. "He's a useless drunk! That's why I hate him so much! For making me care about what he bloody says!"

"Julien, I need you to relax, alright?" Combeferre whispered, rubbing his shoulders gently. "Just forget about Grantaire for a moment so you can calm down."

"I can't forget about him, Ferre! Don't you think I would if I could?!" Enjolras yelled as he pulled back from the other man's touch.

"At least stop yelling," the medical student said, unfazed. "Listen. I know what he said was awful. And he is annoying and always drunk and always getting under your skin. But he doesn't matter. He is one man, and he isn't changing anybody's opinions on anything. The rest of us know what the cause is worth."

Enjolras paused for a moment, his breathing dangerously uneven. "I...I need to go home," he whispered, unable to continue arguing with anyone, the pain in his chest becoming unbearable.

"Alright. Let's go," Combeferre nodded kindly, gently forcing Enjolras to lean on him.

"I hate him so much, Etienne," Enjolras mumbled weakly. The use of Combeferre's first name made the man look up in surprise and concern. Enjolras only ever called him that when something was truly bothering him. "He makes me so mad..."

"I know," the older revolutionary nodded. "Right now he's making me pretty mad as well."

"How can he say all of that? I just don't understand..." Enjolras felt his knees begin to give way and suddenly he was in Combeferre's arms, carried like a child. And, much to the older student's pure terror, he didn't even fight it. He just continued to breathe unevenly, his heart thudding painfully and unevenly against his ribs, pulsing against Combeferre's chest as the other man carried him.

"I don't think he understands either," the medical student mumbled, relieved the streets were relatively empty so Julien might not feel so ashamed of being carried. "I think he just needs to feel something. And if that's anger, then so be it. Honestly, I think he cares more about the cause than he lets on, or else he simply wouldn't care enough to tell us how stupid it is."

"Really?" Enjolras mumbled weakly, not looking up.

"I think so."

The blond paused for a moment, struggling to catch his breath. "I still hate him."

"I know," Combeferre sighed. He planted a small kiss in Enjolras's wild blond locks. "I know."

The rest of the trip was silent until they reached the flat the two shared. Combeferre gently lowered Enjolras to his feet again, supporting him as he unlocked the door and helped the blond inside.

"I wish he wasn't even a member sometimes," Enjolras finally grumbled as he found his footing at last, though the pain in his chest just continued to escalate.

"Then why do you let him come back?" Combeferre asked gently.

"Because I keep hoping he'll change."

The medical student was silent for a moment before speaking again. "Julien, you need to sit down."

"I'm...I'm fine..."

"Julien, please..."

"I'll be alright, I'm sorry for the inconvenience..."

"Julien..."

"I'm fi-"

"_JULIEN ENJOLRAS SIT DOWN THIS INSTANT."_

Enjolras blinked, unused to Combeferre's yelling. He was so unused to it, in fact, that for once he did exactly as he was told and sank slowly, painfully, into the nearest chair, wincing at the sharp pain in his chest.

"Thank you," Combeferre muttered, pulling off Enjolras's coat and going to put it in the closet.

It was at this point that the blond revolutionary began to tremble. "I...I need to write my speech..."

"No," Combeferre glared, turning from the closet to face the younger boy. "You need to rest."

"I...I have to make sure we're ready. P-Patria needs me..." Enjolras whispered, bringing his arms to his chest, the pain intensifying to the point that he could hardly breathe.

"It can wait," Combeferre called from inside the closet, still hanging up the coats.

"No!" Enjolras snapped, though there was no strength in it. "N-no...It can't. It's going to be fine. France is going to be fine..."

"France will be fine without a speech for one night. Don't worry about it," Combeferre insisted from inside the wardrobe.

But the blond just continued rambling, almost madly. "It's going to be fine... France will be fine..." He got unsteadily to his feet, his words altering without him meaning for them to. "I'll be fine...I'm going to be fine..."

"Enjolras! You need to rest!" Combeferre exclaimed, bolting out of the wardrobe.

Enjolras, meanwhile, was reaching up a shaky hand to touch the French flag he had hung on the wall. His trembling fingers closed around the material. "I'm alright..." But no sooner had he said this then did his legs give way and he crashed to the floor, bringing the flag down with him.

"_Julien!_" Combeferre screamed, rushing over to his side, turning the blond over and holding his dear friend close, the flag covering half of Enjolras like a shroud. He quickly pushed the flag back, his own heart thudding as dangerously as Enjolras's was. "Julien, please!"

The blond looked up at Combeferre with half-opened eyes and an unbearably pained face. "C-Combeferre..."

"I'm here. I'm right here, Julien," the medical student whispered, horror overtaking his doctoral instincts as he felt Enjolras's herat beating erratically and far too quickly in his chest.

"I...I don't hate him," the younger student mumbled almost inaudibly.

"I know, I know," Combeferre soothed. He tore the cravat from Enjolras's neck and loosened his shirt collar, praying this would help him breathe better. Julien's pulse beat visibly and unevenly in his throat. "You're going to be alright... Just look at me and breathe. Please, just breathe, Julien..."

"I...This isn't..." Enjolras struggled to talk, failing miserably.

"Shh, shh, Enj. Don't talk. Just...just please be okay," Combeferre begged desperately.

"F-Ferre...I'm sorry..."

But that was all Enjolras managed before he winced sharply, coughed breathlessly, and then fell limp and heavy against Combeferre, unconscious.

* * *

OMG I AM SO DRAINED BUT AT LAST WE HAVE REACHED THE CLIMAX(ISH) IN THE STORY HUZZAH!

I'm off to bed now. Good night.

Review if you'd like, and stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	10. Chapter 10

Hello everyone! Sorry for leaving you all with that terrible cliff hanger last chapter...But alas, it had to be done. So! Here's chapter ten. I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: I'm still not Hugo, but I promise to alert you if that changes. And again, this chapter was co-written by my cousin.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Ten:

The first thing Enjolras was aware of when his eyes cracked open was the persistent, dull throbbing sensation in his chest.

The next thing he was aware of was a gentle hand brushing his curls back and a familiar face peering worriedly into view through his blurred vision.

"'F-'Ferre?" Enjolras mumbled weakly, his voice hardly recognizable even to himself.

"_Oui..._It's me, _mon __petite frère_," the older revolutionary mumbled, still stroking the blond locks. He knelt down beside the bed where he had carried the younger boy when he had lost consciousness. "God...You scared me out of my wits, you know that?"

"What happened?" Enjolras asked hoarsely as he tried to push himself into a sitting position.

"Oh no you don't," Combeferre shook his head, pushing him back down again. "You just passed out. I...I didn't know what to do. You scared me to death."

"I...I did?" Enjolras blinked before looking away, shame-faced. "I'm sorry..."

"Why are you sorry?!" Combeferre snapped, his eyes flashing a little. "What on Earth do you have to apologize for?"

"I scared you," the blond muttered. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault!" the medical student exclaimed incredulously. "Don't apologize!"

Enjolras fell silent for a moment, fumbling with his sheets before speaking again. "So...What happened?"

"You just..." Combeferre blinked back tears at the memory, still so fresh and harsh in his mind. "You were yelling about France and Grantaire and you tried to grab the flag and you just collapsed. I...I think it might have had something to do with your heart."

Enjolras was silent for several moments before speaking again. "I...I don't hate him, Combeferre."

"I know," the med student soothed. "If you did you wouldn't let him stay."

The blond fell silent again before speaking softly, feeling utterly drained of energy. "It hurts, Combeferre."

"What can I do to help?" the brunette asked softly as he tucked a strand of blond hair behind the younger boy's ear.

"I'm... I don't know. It's never been this bad before, Etienne... I don't know what's going on," Enjolras admitted brokenly.

Combeferre nodded, unfazed, holding Enjolras's hand in his gently. "You need medical help. Real medical help. Not just me."

"I already went once. He just said I have that stupid disease...Angina or whatever. But..." the blond paused, wincing again as the pain in his chest threatened to double. "But maybe a second opinion wouldn't hurt."

"I'll go get him," Combeferre mumbled softly. He planted a chaste kiss on Enjolras's forehead. The younger boy was always so anxious of doctors...If he was saying he wanted to see one, that meant there was something truly very wrong. "Courfeyrac is in his flat downstairs. I'll have him come over and sit with you until I come back."

Quietly, almost looking ashamed, the blond nodded. "Thank you."

Etienne took Enjolras's shoulders in his gentle hands, making the other boy look up at him. "It's my pleasure," he smiled kindly. He embraced Enjolras briefly before heading towards the door. "Courf should be up within in a minute. If it's any longer than that, let me know and I'll kick his rear end as soon as I get the chance."

Enjolras managed a small smile. "Alright. I'll let you know."

And with that, Combeferre was gone.

Enjolras sighed a little, trying to get rid of the nerves swirling around in his stomach as he lay back and closed his eyes. No sooner did he start to drift off, however, than did the door open again and Courfryrac came in, his face full of poorly disguised panic as he took a seat by the bedside, offering Julien a weak smile.

"Hey Enjolras," he mumbled. "I heard you decided to take an unexpected nap. How are you feeling?" His joking tone hardly covered up his worry.

The blond gave him a small smile. "Oh, I'm alright. I needed that little nap, I believe."

"Well at least you realized you have been over working yourself," Courfeyrac's joking tone began slipping.

The older revolutionary fell silent for a minute before speaking again. "So how are you?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine," Courfeyrac said nonchalantly. "A little worried about a friend of mine who is having some medical troubles, but other than that..."

"That friend is perfectly fine, Courfeyrac," Enjolras said stoically, looking up at him.

For a moment, the joking tone dropped and the curly-headed brunette looked a little mad. "Enjolras, stop it! Please, just stop! You don't have to be the hero all the time! You are human and you are sick. And it might be serious. Stop brushing it off!"

Enjolras blinked, looking a little hurt. "I...I'm sorry..."

"Oh...No, no, no, no Enjolras I'm sorry," Courfeyrac stopped ranting and looked scared again. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. Especially when you just passed out because you were worked up. I'm such an idiot sometimes. I'm not mad. I just...I don't want to lose you."

There was a very long pause, not awkward, but just..._there. _Finally, Enjolras broke the silence by patting the bed. "Want to come sit down?"

"Sure," Courfeyrac gave a small smile and went to sit by Enjolras, taking his friend's hand in his by instinct, to comfort him, to let him know he wasn't mad.

"It...It was my fault that I passed out," Julien finally mumbled softly. "I let Taire get into my head, I guess..."

"None of this is your fault," Courfeyrac shook his head quickly. "You can't help something you were born with."

"But I could have dealt with it better," Enjolras insisted. "I've been...rather foolish, I suppose. I know when it starts hurting, and when it does I just keep going. And that's stupid of me."

"Well then," Courfeyrac spoke gently, a small smile on his face as he brushed Enjolras's hair back. "Learn from your mistakes. Accept help every once in a while, and when you feel it start to hurt, just let one of us know and we can help."

"What if I can't take part in our cause any more?" Enjolras asked quietly. Courfeyrac blinked at the tone of his voice. It was the first time he'd ever heard Enjolras sound genuinely terrified.

"You will always find some way to be a part of the cause, no matter what," the brunette promised, continuing to brush the golden curls. "And we will help you. You just have to be more careful."

"Courfeyrac...When the day comes for the barricades to rise...I will be there."

"Of course you will be. I wouldn't try to stop you. With, or without this stupid heart condition."

Enjolras visibly relaxed, and a small smile spread across his face. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

There was another silence, which again Julien was the first to break.

"I'm sorry but, I think I'll have to miss the meetings for a while... Who knows when Combeferre will let me out of bed."

"It's alright," Courfeyrac smiled gently. "We'll handle them, and report back with full details."

Enjolras nodded a little, looking relieved before speaking again. "So...How's Grantaire?"

Courfeyrac's face fell instantly, and he looked away. "Umm...He's drunk."

"Of course he is," Enjolras grumbled, his face falling too. "I don't know why I even bother asking."

"But...It's not his normal kind of drunk."

"What do you mean?" the blond blinked, looking up at Courfeyrac.

"He's...He thought he killed you, Enjolras. When you ran out of the Musain, he just went off on himself and began drinking hard liquor instead of his wine. He's drinking himself into oblivion. Jehan's staying with him, but...He's scared for you, Enjolras. And he doesn't even know you passed out yet."

For once, Enjolras was at a total loss for words and he just sat there, his heart aching painfully. And something told him it wasn't just the illness.

* * *

There ya go! Another chapter. I'm not sure when the next update will be...I'm crewing a show all next week. But hopefully it will be soon!

Please review if you'd like to!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	11. Chapter 11

Hey guys! So, here's the next chapter! A very important one...Enjoy! I apologize, but I doubt I will be able to update again for about two weeks because of finals... BUT! Then it's summer and updates will be practically constant! So here's a big chapter to hold you over, and please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I am not Hugo, my cousin co-wrote this, and I like ice cream.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Eleven:

It took fifteen minutes for Combeferre to return with a doctor. It was not the doctor that Courfeyrac took Enjolras to a couple of weeks earlier, and this instantly put Enjolras on edge as his friend and the middle-aged man entered his room. Though he had still been apprehensive of Doctor Plamondon, the man's kind eyes and gentle words had eased most of Julien's nerves. This man, however, had serious eyes and a face that would put Enjolras's most stoical expression to shame. Combeferre stepped over to the bed, an apologetic look on his face as the new doctor silently started rummaging through his bag in the doorway.

"He was the first doctor I could find. He's one of my professors at the university. Doctor Lamar," he mumbled quietly to the tense Enjolras and nervous looking Courfeyrac, who remained at the bedside stubbornly until the medical student faced him gently. "Courf, would you please go tell the others at the cafe about Julien? They should know, and I want to be here with Enj," he whispered, clasping a hand to Enjolras's knee.

"Of course," Courfeyrac nodded quickly as he leapt to his feet. He turned to Enjolras long enough to plant a chaste kiss on his forehead, looking at him with gently worrying eyes. "Don't you be scared, Apollo. Everything will be okay."

Enjolras just nodded and swallowed thickly. He hadn't said a word since the stony-faced doctor had entered the room, and his entire body, already tense and weakened from the spell he had undergone only minutes ago, was practically shaking. Courfeyrac gave him and Combeferre one more half-hearted smile before racing out of the room, sending an apprehensive glance towards Doctor Lamar on his way out.

No sooner had the younger student left the room, then did Doctor Lamar approach the bed, not even making eye contact with Enjolras. "Good evening, monsieur," he grumbled as he sat his bag down at the foot of the bed, shooing Combeferre aside. The medical student's eyes flashed a little, but he complied, moving to Enjolras's side, closer to his head, still sitting on the bed.

"E-evening," Enjolras mumbled quietly, his voice tense and trembling, a far cry from his normal hymn-like tone.

"So Monsieur Combeferre tells me that you have a heart condition and that you passed out due to getting worked up and therefore foolishly straining your heart though you knew you had this condition, correct?" the doctor said coldly, no teasing or kindness in this reprimand.

Enjolras looked up in anger, but when the doctor just looked back at him coolly, the blond lowered his head, looking at his hands. "I...I suppose so..."

Combeferre squeezed his arm tightly, trying to keep his anger towards this harshness at bay. "Doctor, I think that-"

"You are not in my class at the moment, I am not interested in your opinions, Monsieur Combeferre," Doctor Lamar said icily, looking at his pupil through his darkly rimmed glasses.

Enjolras tensed at this, wanting to say something, but a sharp pain jolted through his chest and he gasped, closing his eyes.

"Julien!" Combeferre cried, horror springing to his eyes. "Are you alright!?"

"It's his heart," Doctor Lamar said simply. "Monsieur Enjolras, remove your shirt."

Enjolras looked up through pain-filled eyes, glaring at the man. He was shaking and his heart was thudding visibly in his throat, and he had no strength to do as the doctor demanded so coldly. Combeferre, biting his tongue, gingerly unbuttoned his friend's shirt and pulled it open for the blond student, mumbling quietly "It's alright, Julien. Please just relax and breathe. This will all be over soon."

But Enjolras just remained shaking and scared on the bed as the shirt was pulled off his shoulders, his eyes not leaving Combeferre's. Doctor Lamar, meanwhile, had pulled out his stethoscope as well as a metal bowl and a small knife. Luckily, Enjolras didn't notice, the older student's face kind and comforting as the doctor lowered the bell of the stethoscope to his chest, ignoring the shiver that went through the blond at the touch of the cold bell to his bare skin.

"Breathe in," Doctor Lamar demanded, and hardly could Enjolras draw a shaky breath before he was told harshly "Hold it."

After several rounds of this unfeeling examination, Doctor Lamar sat aside his stethoscope and faced Enjolras. "Well, Monsieur Enjolras, our best option for the moment is bloodletting. It will produce the best results the fastest, and will, to be honest, quite possibly be your saving grace in this time. You are very lucky to be alive, in your foolish neglecting of this condition."

At the mention of "bloodletting," Enjolras had gone deathly still, Combeferre's hand clasping tightly onto his. Ignoring the doctor's harsh words, the blond whispered hoarsely "W-what?"

Combeferre, though feeling a nervous knot form in his own stomach, just softly squeezed Enjolras's shoulder. "I'm sure it will be fine, mon petit..."

"The procedure is very safe," the doctor said as he began to ready the knife and bowl. "I assure you that you should not be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," Enjolras snapped. "Just..." He was silent for a moment before speaking again. "But will it hurt?"

"You will feel uncomfortable, no question," Doctor Lamar shrugged, facing his patient. "But it is necessary."

Enjolras swallowed thickly, but managed a small nod, shaking slightly, his eyes betraying fear.

"Good. I'm glad you understand," the doctor grumbled quietly, reaching for Enjolras's arm. "This shouldn't take too long."

Enjolras looked towards Combeferre again, desperate for comfort as the doctor stretched out his arm over the bowl. The medical student took Enjolras's shoulder in his hand, not breaking eye contact. "Just look right at me, Julien. It's going to be alright. Right at me."

However, as soon as Enjolras managed to relax just slightly, he felt the knife slice his skin and he let out a scared, pained gasp, yanking back.

The next few moments were a blur for him. Combeferre screamed his name, and his arm became warm...Very warm. And wet. Doctor Lamar cursed, the knife clattering to the floor. Enjolras felt himself be shifted, and he smelled the strong scent of iron. And why was there so much red? Why were his sheets wet and red?

_"...Nicked an artery...!"_

_"...He was scared..."_

_"...Hold him still, would you?!"_

_"Julien please, please just calm down..."_

_"...hold a dying man?!"_

_"...Please, just breathe and look at me..."_

_"...Grown man..."_

_"...just a child!"_

When Enjolras opened his eyes again, he felt more weak than he could ever remember feeling in his life. His heart literally felt like it was shaking in his chest, and his left arm felt strangely numb. His vision didn't want to work right, nor did his hearing. His body wouldn't even let him turn his head. Even breathing seemed too much for his suddenly appallingly weak body. A familiar voice spoke to a not-so-familiar one, coldly.

_"You may leave now, Doctor. I will not be coming to your classes anymore."_

_"It was his own fault-"_

_"Don't you dare blame Julien. Here's your francs. Now please leave."_

_"He's just going to get sicker, you know. With all that __blood loss-"_

_"Well it's a good thing he has friends to take care of him. Good afternoon, doctor."_

Enjolras heard a door close, and seconds later felt a dip in the bed. His eyes allowed him to make out the worried, scared face of Combeferre coming into his line of sight. Enjolras felt the older boy's gentle hand rest in his own golden curls, but he somehow felt detached from it. "Julien...My sweet friend...Can you hear me?"

Enjolras just blinked up, confused at him, not sure why moving was suddenly impossible. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, but when he opened them again he was laying in Combeferre's arms. When had Combeferre gotten into bed with him? When did he take him in his arms? God, his chest was on fire and it hurt and this must be what dying feels like...

And then the strong arms that were holding him began rocking him gently, softly, like a small child. A shaky voice..._Combeferre_...Began whispering hoarsely. "Please...Please, Julien...You're going to be just fine, mon petit...My leader...My dearest friend and brother..."

Enjolras let out a whimper..._Did you really just whimper, Julien?_...Burying in closer to Combeferre's touch. The medical student just rocked him back and forth gently, and Enjolras could have sworn he felt warm tears falling into his curls.

And as he drifted off, confused and scared and in more pain than he could ever remember being in, he heard a soft voice singing shakily to him. _"Hush little baby don't say a word...Combeferre's gonna buy you a mocking bird..."_

* * *

Yep well that was emotionally draining to write at 11:00 at night. I hope you all liked it! I know it was a little disjointed, but it was supposed to be.

Well, please review, and I'll see you all after finals!

~Rosey


	12. Chapter 12

Hey all! Well, finals are finally over (ha) and I am officially a college sophomore! Yay! So, summer is at last here, and updates will be VERY frequent… Hopefully at least once a week! Here's the next chapter…I hope it's enjoyed! Please, if you like it, or have any advice, review!

Disclaimer: I am not Hugo. Also, my cousin Brianna co-wrote this chapter. So. Give her some love!

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Twelve:

It was dark and cold when Enjolras woke up. Or maybe that was just him. He could barely make out the shape of four people sitting at his side, one a little closer than the others, holding his hand and humming an old tune to him. He blinked weakly, willing the darkness to clear and the chill in his bones to leave.

"I think he's waking up," a familiar voice mumbled. "Julien, can you hear me?"

Suddenly, all the memories came rushing back. The doctor and his harsh words, the knife against his skin, the blood…the doctor's anger…The lullaby.

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. When he could see a little better, he was able to make out the forms of Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, and Bossuet sitting at his bedside, all leaning forward in their chairs, looking extremely anxious for the blond in the bed. Ferre sat closest, holding his dear friend's hand and stroking his hair. Courfeyrac had a hand on Feuilly's shoulder, who looked as if he had been crying, and Bossuet sat still and trembling, his cap clutched in his hand.

"_Bonjour, mon petit_," Combeferre smiled weakly when he finally made eye contact with Enjolras. "You've been out for over two hours… How are you feeling?"

"I'm…I'm sorry I made the doctor mad," the blond whispered hoarsely, his brain a little loopy from the dangerous blood loss.

"Hush," Combeferre whispered, stroking his hair gently. "He doesn't matter. He's not important."

"If he was so unimportant why did you insist on him coming?" Enjolras asked sleepily as he tried to sit up.

"He was important, I suppose. But right now his feelings aren't," Combeferre soothed, gently pushing Enjolras back into the pillows.

Enjolras just nodded a little, leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes again.

"How are you feeling, Julien?" Courfeyrac asked quietly. "I was hoping you'd have more well wishers when you woke, but Feuilly and Bossuet were the only ones at the Musain, but the others will know soon enough and-" He was silenced by an elbow to the side from Ferre, sending him a warning look about his rambling.

"It's alright. I'm glad you four are here," Enjolras whispered weakly. "And I feel stupid. That's how I feel."

Feuilly looked up at this, blinking. "Why do you feel stupid?"

"Look at me, Feuilly," Enjolras mumbled. "I'm a mess. A total and complete wreck."

"No you aren't!" Feuilly exclaimed passionately. "You are sick, but you are not a mess."

"I pulled away like a five year old," the blond revolutionary grumbled as he looked down.

"Blood letting is scary," Bossuet spoke up in a shaking voice. "It's a natural reaction."

"How can I go fight on a barricade if a little knife scares me?" Enjolras whispered, still not looking up.

Combeferre grabbed his shoulders gently, and made the blue eyes meet his spectacled ones of brown. "Enjolras, think about it. You want nothing more than freedom for the people. You are willing to die for it. There is nothing that is going to stop you from fighting for the cause."

Enjolras was silent for a moment before nodding slightly and moving closer to Combeferre's touch. The medical student smiled sadly at him before gently bringing the younger revolutionary into his arms in an embrace, mumbling softly to him. "Trust me, Julien. You are going to be fine."

"How can you be sure?" he whispered weakly from his position in his friend's hug. "Now it's not just my heart, it's my own foolish blood loss."

"Because you aren't going to let something like this beat you," Courfeyrac spoke up as Combeferre gently laid Enjolras back against the pillows, brushing the blond locks out of his friend's eyes.

Enjolras was silent for a moment, feeling horribly awkward and watched having four of the Amis all sitting at his bedside at once. Luckily, Feuilly seemed to pick up on this, and he tacitly excused himself and Bossuet from the room, knowing Enjolras would be more comfortable with his closest friends only by his sick bed. Before leaving, however, both the fan-maker and the bald student pressed a loving kiss to Enjolras's forehead and squeezed his shoulder, promising to come visit again soon before sliding silently out of the door.

When Feuilly and Bossuet were gone, Combeferre silently pulled his chair closer to the bed, Courfeyrac moving over to the other side just as quietly. Enjolras had his eyes closed, trying to regulate his breathing pattern. A brief silence followed before the blond finally spoke up, not opening his eyes. "How long will I have to be an invalid?" The words were full of self-anger and shame.

"You'll need strict bed rest for about two weeks," Combeferre admitted quietly. "And after that, you'll have to take it slow for about two more. The doctor, stupid as he was, said that after a good period of rest, you should be back to as good as new, so long as you don't over exert yourself to the extremes you have been. Obviously, when it comes time for the barricades to rise, we will not stop you from doing all you will. But until then, we _will_ make sure you rest and are safe."

Julien was silent again, fiddling with the edge of his blanket before looking up guiltily. "I'm sorry for being such a burden…"

"You are not a burden, Enjolras!" Courfeyrac exclaimed incredulously.

"Yes I am," Enjolras muttered. "And it's only going to get worse."

"Enjolras, you are not a burden," Combeferre spoke up gently, holding his friend's hand close. "You are our dearest friend. That alone takes away from any issues we would have with taking care of you."

The blond gave a dry chuckle. "Let me guess. Every day, someone will be new will be assigned to 'Enjy-sit.'"

Combeferre and Courfeyrac smiled at the return of his dry humor. "We will come up with a schedule. And probably fight over who gets you the longest. We want to take care of you."

Enjolras blinked, furrowing his brows. "Really?"

"Really. We never get the chance to. And we want to make sure you know how much we care about you."

"Speaking of which," Courfeyrac got to his feet. "I need to let the others know what happened. I'll be back soon. You rest while I'm gone, alright Julien?"

Enjolras nodded weakly, receiving a quick kiss into his hair from the younger student before the brunette rushed out, leaving Combeferre and Enjolras once more alone.

The blond closed his eyes once more, perfectly comfortable with the silence that stretched between him and his oldest friend for several moments. They were strange like that. Sometimes, they would just sit in silence together and have said enough to last a lifetime. Finally, Enjolras spoke up, quietly, brokenly.

"I'm afraid that I'm leading you all to your deaths."

Combeferre looked up, and his heart shattered, knowing the words Grantaire had said earlier hit the younger student hard. He scooted onto the bed, taking Enjolras in his arms once more, resting his chin in the blond locks. "Julien, listen to me. We all believe in the cause as much as you do. Despite what Grantaire says, we are not following you blindly. All of us know the risks of rebellion. I may not be as vocal about it as you are, but I will fight to my last breath to free these people. And if that means getting shot off a barricade, so be it. I will either have a free France, or die fighting for one. And I know everyone feels the same."

The blond fell silent for a moment before turning around in Combeferre's arms and pulling the medical student into a tight embrace. Combeferre started in shock for a moment, but quickly hugged him back tightly. Enjolras buried in closer, weak and shaky, seeking comfort from his eldest friend. The med student just sat there quietly, rubbing small circles on Enjolras's back. "It's alright, baby. I'm here. Everything's fine."

Finally, after several moment, Enjolras pulled back, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry…"

"For what?"

"Being such a baby," the blond grumbled as he forced his face to be stoic again.

Combeferre felt tears well in his eyes and he swallowed thickly. "You are not a baby. I just called you that because you are my dear, young friend whom I have known since you could rightfully indeed have been called a child. But everyone is entitled to a moment of weakness every once in a while. Especially revolutionary leaders with heart problems who just lost a lot of blood."

Enjolras looked at him silently for a moment, letting the words seep in as he wearily leaned back against his friend's shoulder. He was trembling from the blood loss, and his chest still felt like an icy-hot dagger was piercing it. Combeferre smoothed his wild blond hair back gently, whispering, "Enjolras. As your stand-in-doctor, I am ordering you to get some more sleep."

"Stand-in-doctor?" Enjolras asked skeptically, but tiredly.

"Well, I'm not really qualified to treat you, but I am a med student. So I'll take over for now."

Enjolras smiled a little, too tired and weak to argue, before nodding a little and relaxing against Combeferre, closing his eyes once more.

* * *

Well there we go! A kind of filler, but the climax is really out of the way, now we just have to focus on getting poor Enjolras back on his feet. Please, review and let me know what you think!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	13. Chapter 13

Hey all! Here's the next chapter! Thank you all so much for all your kind feedback... I apologize for not replying to each of you individually any more like I used to... My e-mail has been screwing up and not alerting me when I get a review/not letting me reply back/etc. Meh. So! This is me thanking you all now! You all are the reason this story is as successful as it has been:) 100 reviews! This is officially my most reviewed story! Bless all of you!

Disclaimer: Not Hugo, my cousin Brianna co-wrote this chapter, oh and Brian! I still haven't found my purpose. (Name that musical and I'll give you virtual cookies.)

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Thirteen:

Combeferre blinked awake in the early hours of the morning, still slouched on Enjolras's bed from the night before. All too quickly, the events of the past night came rushing back to him, and he glanced down hurriedly and anxiously at the blond in his arms. He felt a small smile spread across his face when he saw his younger friend curled up against him, arms latched around Combeferre's waist, his golden head buried into his friend's side. The smile only lasted a moment, however, when the medical student realized how pale his friend was, and how unevenly Enjolras was breathing. Biting his lip, he gently reached down and shook the blond's shoulder.

"Enjolras?" he whispered softly, feeling guilty for waking him.

The younger revolutionary mumbled something incoherent, letting out a half-whimper, burying in closer to Combeferre. The medical student had to give a small smile, running a hand through the golden curls. "Julien?" he asked in a voice even gentler than before, if that was possible.

Two sleepy blue eyes blinked up at Combeferre, blond curls falling stubbornly into them. "Hmm?"

"How are you feeling?" Combeferre asked quietly as he put a hand to Enjolras's cool cheek, feeling bad for waking him.

"'M fine," came the expected reply as the younger boy curled up against him again.

"Alright," Combeferre smiled. "I'm sorry I woke you. Can I get you anything?"

"Mmm-mmm," Enjolras shook his head weakly, not looking up from his buried position in Ferre's arms.

The medical student had to let out a little laugh, kissing Enjolras on the forehead. "Alright. Let me know if you need anything. You just rest and let your body heal itself."

"You won't leave?" Julien mumbled sleepily.

"Of course not," Combeferre swore, wrapping an arm around his friend and bringing him closer.

Enjolras seemed satisfied with this, and was asleep again within moments, his blood-deprived body causing his already weak heart to have to work overtime, throughly exhausting the young student. Combeferre just sat silently and watched his dearest friend, allowing himself to look concerned now that Enjolras was asleep.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock at the door, startling Combeferre slightly. Gingerly, he laid Enjolras down onto the pillows, sliding off the bed and making his way to the door where he creaked it open.

In the doorway stood an anxious looking Jehan, his freckled nose crinkled a little as it always was when he was concerned about something, his sandy long hair falling loose from it's ponytail. He clutched a large book in his hands, and when Ferre opened the door he looked as if he was about to collapse. "Hello, Combeferre," he said softly, his always soothing voice even quieter than usual.

"Hello, mon ami," Combeferre smiled kindly, leading Jehan into the flat. "How are you?"

"I'm alright," the poet replied. "I've come to see Julien. Is he alright?"

"He just went back to sleep. He's lost a lot of blood, though... He's on bed rest for two weeks," Combeferre mumbled gently as he pulled Jehan onto the couch. "You look like you should sit down-"

"Blood loss?!" Jehan's head snapped up. "I thought it was just his heart!"

"Well it was," Combeferre nodded slightly. "But then the doctor had to do bloodletting and Enjolras jerked. The doctor should have expected that, but he didn't and he nicked an artery."

Jehan sat there with wide teal colored eyes, tears beading in them almost instantly. "Is he alright?"

"As long as he rests he will be," Combeferre nodded lightly.

Jehan nodded vigorously, before holding out the novel in his hands towards Combeferre. "I brought a poetry book. I thought he might like me to read it to him."

Combeferre smiled at his friend's adorableness, pressing his friend's hand in his. "I'm sure he would love that."

The poet got quietly to his feet, stepping towards the bedroom door and peeking in at the sleeping Enjolras in the bed. "He looks so young..." the student whispered gently, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"He is young," Combeferre was at his side in two steps, looking in at Enjolras as well.

"I forget that sometimes," Jehan mumbled. He sounded almost guilty.

"So do I," the medical student nodded a little. "I forget how young we _all_ are."

Jehan nodded a little, stepping to the bedside and sitting down, reaching out a tentative hand and touching Enjolras's marble one. His chin trembled a little, and he sniffled.

"He's going to be fine, Jehan," Combeferre whispered gently.

"He's just a kid, 'Ferre,"the poet muttered.

"I know. But he's going to be fine," the med student promised. He paused for a moment before speaking again, quietly. "He has to be."

Jehan shook himself a little, and reached for his poetry book. "I found a poem he'd love. It's called _Revolutions _ by Matthew Arnold."

"Read away," Combeferre smiled. "Even if he can't hear you, I bet it will help him sleep."

Jehan nodded, and opened the book to the page he had marked and began to read in a gentle, quiet voice, leaning forward in his chair, all but whispering directly in Enjolras's ear.

"_Before man parted for this earthly strand,_  
_While yet upon the verge of heaven he stood,_  
_God put a heap of letters in his hand,_  
_And bade him make with them what word he could._

_And man has turn'd them many times; made Greece,_  
_Rome, England, France;—yes, nor in vain essay'd_  
_Way after way, changes that never cease!_  
_The letters have combined, something was made._

_But ah! an inextinguishable sense_  
_Haunts him that he has not made what he should;_  
_That he has still, though old, to recommence,_  
_Since he has not yet found the word God would._

_And empire after empire, at their height_  
_Of sway, have felt this boding sense come on;_  
_ Have felt their huge frames not constructed right,_  
_And droop'd, and slowly died upon their throne._

_One day, thou say'st, there will at last appear_  
_The word, the order, which God meant should be._  
_Ah! we shall know that well when it comes near;_  
_ The band will quit man's heart, he will breathe free._"

Combeferre, who had been listening silently the whole time, wiped away a stray tear as Jehan finished reading the poem, and he smiled softly. "I bet he'd love that, mon ami."

Jehan smiled softly and set the book aside. "I thought so." He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "Do you think if Julien gave himself a break more this heart problem wouldn't have happened?"

"I...I can't say," Combeferre admitted quietly. "I mean, he did have it as a child, but I don't know if it would have progressed to this..."

Jean teared up again, but this time he wiped them quickly away, looking back down at Enjolras. "He looks so helpless...He's not supposed to look helpless..."

"I know," the medical student mumbled. "It doesn't feel right. But at the same time, I think everyone needs to be helpless once in a while."

Jehan looked up, confused. "What do you mean?"

"It's like you said. He's just a kid. He shouldn't have to be strong all the time," Combeferre said softly.

The poet nodded a little, looking back down at Enjolras. "He sure seems to think he does."

"I wish we could change his mind," the older student muttered.

"Me too," Jehan nodded as he adjusted Enjolras's pillow and covers.

"I've tried, but he won't listen to me."

"He makes me so scared," Jean whispered as he stroked the blond locks affectionately.

"I know," Combeferre put a hand on Jehan's shoulder. "But he wouldn't want you to be scared."

"No," a soft voice came from the bed, weak and tired, but caring. "No, I wouldn't."

The poet looked down, and a small, gentle smile spread across his face. "Hello, Julien."

* * *

Okay, so originally Jehan's visit was all going to be crammed into one chapter, but I have too much for my darling little poet to do, so here's part one of Jean's visit, and part two will be in the next chapter! Also, that is a real poem and that is the real author... I nearly died when I found it.

Well, as always, if you have anything to say, review please!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	14. Chapter 14

Hello, all! Here's the next chapter! We're moving right along, now aren't we? Thank you all for your support! And for those of you who guessed, the musical reference in my previous disclaimer was indeed Avenue Q! Brava!

Disclaimer: Not Hugo, cousin co-wrote this, and I'm a Sagittarius.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Fourteen:

Jehan smiled at Enjolras as the blond came more into the world of the waking, blinking and weakly pushing himself into a sitting position. "We didn't mean to wake you..." the poet mumbled guiltily as the revolutionary propped himself against the pillows.

"No, it's fine," Enjolras insisted with a tired smile. He was shivering slightly, and Combeferre hardly failed to notice.

"Julien?" he mumbled quietly. "You're trembling. Are you cold? Or hungry?"

The blond gave a little nod, looking down. "Kind of?"

"To both?" the medical student asked with a small smile.

"Yes," Enjolras mumbled, going a little pink. "To both."

"Alright, I'll get you some soup," the older student said kindly, getting to his feet. "Jehan, could you grab a blanket?"

The poet beamed, eager to be of help, nodding and racing obey Combeferre's request.

Not five minutes later, Enjolras was wrapped in a blanket secured from Jehan, and was taking shaky spoonfuls of the soup Combeferre had brought, often needing his hand steadied so as not to spill. Jehan, after a brief search around the room, had found a hair brush and was gently combing through his friend's hair, hoping to soothe the blond and also to fix the bed-tangled curls. Enjolras smiled a little at the loving act, humming slightly in contentment.

"That feels nice, Jehan. Thank you," he mumbled sleepily.

The poet blushed a little, giving him a shy smile. "I'm glad."

As Combeferre smiled at his friends, Enjolras looked over at him, cocking his head a little to the side. "Ferre, you look exhausted..."

The bespectacled student's head snapped up from where he had been drooping off, and he shook his head quickly. "What? No, I'm fine."

Jehan softly spoke up, still brushing Enjolras's soft hair. "Ferre, go get some sleep. I'll sit with him."

"I'll sleep in a bit," Combeferre insisted.

The poet rolled his eyes, sighing. "Oh honestly, you're as bad as this one."

"I am not!"

"Ferre, please," Enjolras spoke up weakly. "I'm fine. Please go get some sleep."

The medical student looked at his younger friend for a moment before sighing deeply. "Alright. Fine. But if anything changes, Jehan, wake me immediately."

"I promise. Now shoo!" Jehan chuckled, pushing Combeferre towards his own bed.

No sooner had the medical student laid down on his bed than was he asleep, snoring lightly. Jehan giggled lightly to himself before returning to Enjolras's bedside and resuming his task of hair brushing. "I was afraid he wouldn't listen," the poet mumbled, gently working on a tangle in the blond curls.

"He hasn't been resting enough," Enjolras nodded, surprised at how gently and nimbly Jehan was able to untangle his hair.

Jehan rose an eyebrow at this statement, but just continued brushing Enjolras's hair. The blond winced a little, realizing what he said, muttering guiltily. "That was rather hypocritical of me to say, wasn't it?"

"Just a bit," the poet chuckled lightly.

Enjolras looked away, fiddling with his blanket. "It's just...It's just how I was raised. Work as much as you can, as long as you can, don't show weaknesses, etcetera. My father wasn't exactly the most understanding man..."

Jehan froze, his heart breaking for his friend, and he spoke in a trembling voice. "You don't have to do that, though! You need moments of weakness to make you stronger!"

Enjorlas shook his head. "I don't know how to do that. It was never allowed, so I never did."

"Well, you could start by listening to us when we tell you you're working too hard," Jehan crossed his arms, his freckled nose wrinkling a little again. Take an hour a day to not work or think about revolution or school or anything. Just relax and enjoy life!"

The blond in the bed went a little white. "A whole hour?"

"Yes. And two on Saturday. You will be better rested and think more clearly afterwards!"

Enjolras gave a little sigh. "I don't know if I can do that, mon ami..."

"Then do it with one of us!" Jehan smiled warmly. "I go for lovely walks daily and they always leave me refreshed!"

The blond smiled a little. "A walk sounds nice after being cooped up in bed for a day." _God, I'm going to be here for two weeks..._

"Well, maybe not a walk yet," the other boy said gently. "But I can open the window!" He hurried to the window, pushing it open and beaming. "Oh, Enjolras! They sky is such a lovely shade today!"

"It is?" Enjolras tried to sit up more, still quite weak and shaky from the blood loss.

"Yes!" Jehan grinned, going over and helping the blond sit up.

Enjolras looked at the sky with a small smile. "Huh...Wow. I've never noticed before."

"That's because you're always looking down!" Jean grinned, laughing excitedly. "I must introduce you to the wonders of nature! It will be wonderful!"

Enjorlas tried to sit up more, but his arms gave out and he stumbled a little, falling back against the pillows.

"Lay back down!" Jehan said anxiously, hurrying over to the bedside again. "The sooner you get better, the sooner we can go for a walk!"

"The breeze is warm," Enjolras smiled weakly as his heart beat unevenly and quicker in his ears. "It feels nice."

Jean grinned widely. "Oh good!"

The blond laughed a little, shaking his head. "How do you do it, Jehan?"

"Do what?" the poet asked curiously as he sat gracefully at the bedside, resuming his brushing of the golden curls.

"Live so...Innocently and happily and...care free?"

"Well," the brushing paused for a moment as Jehan thought. "I see sadness everywhere, and I want to fix it. But I can't help everyone, so I just try and bring joy to them any way I can. And making other people happy makes me happy."

Enjolras smiled a little, and opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly he winced sharply, a hand going to his heart. Jehan's face went from happy to horrified, and he leaned in closer to his friend's side. "Enjolras?!"

The blond shook his head stiffly, eyes closed. "Just give it a moment. It will pass."

Jehan looked horribly scared, and grabbed his friend's hand. "Alright..."

Enjolras squeezed his hand tightly, breathing through the pain, facing the poet with a tiny smile. "You look like one of those tragic heroes you're always talking about."

Jean gave a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "I'm not a hero. I just like to be around them."

The blond chuckled weakly as the pain passed. "I'm no hero."

The poet looked shocked. "What are you talking about? Of course you are! You are the people's hero!"

"They need to be their own hero," Enjolras mumbled breathlessly. "I'm just standing in."

"Well, you are doing a wonderful job," Jehan pressed his hand gently.

"Not at the moment I'm not," the blond muttered. "Look at me. I'm an invalid."

"Only temporarily! And invalids can be heroes too. And besides, you are still doing a better job than the monarchists running this country! With a little rest, you'll be as good as new."

Enjolras smiled a little, squeezing Jehan's hand softer now that the pain passed. Jehan smiled back, kissing his temple kindly. "Better now?"

"Mmmhmm," the revolutionary nodded. "Don't tell Ferre?"

"Julien, I'm not so sure that's a good idea..."

"Why? He'll just worry."

"But don't you think it's important to keep track of how many times it happens?" the poet asked seriously. "Because I think it is. Besides, think about how upset he'd be if he found out about it later."

Enjolras winced a little. "That's true. It didn't hurt as badly this time..."

Jehan bit his lip, trying to keep the tears beading in his eyes from falling. "The worst part about this is seeing you all cooped up. You're like a bird. You're used to being able to fly next to the sun, but now you're stuck in a cage."

The revolutionary blinked, looking up at him. "You're a beautiful speaker, Jehan."

Jehan blushed brightly, looking away. "Not as good as you."

"You speak symbolically," Enjolras insisted. "Mine's all literal."

"Well, I guess that's because symbols are beautiful. I like beautiful things. Like you!" he laughed a little, pushing Enjolras's golden curls out of his eyes gently. "I think that's one reason I believe in the rebellion, because the new France is going to be beautiful and everyone will be able to share in its beauty!"

Enjolras smiled at him, and then spoke gently. "Jehan, will you give the speeches while I'm gone?"

The poet looked completely shocked. "Really? Don't you want Combeferre to do it? Or Courfeyrac?"

"No," the blond said simply. "I want you to."

"Well, of course I will!" Jehan beamed. "I would be honored to!"

Enjolras squeezed his hand lightly, smiling back, a million words crammed into two. "Thank you."

* * *

Huzzah! Another chapter done! And this one's a bit longer! I hope you all like it as much as my cousin and I enjoyed writing it. Dear, darling Jehan... I just love him.

Review please?

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	15. Chapter 15

Hello darlings! Well, thank you all so much for your continued support, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: Not Hugo, cousin co-wrote this chapter, and Piglet is my spirit animal.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Fifteen:

The following morning, Combeferre was once again at Enjolras's bedside, counting his friend's pulse and checking his heart rate while the blond sat pouting against the pillows, arms crossed.

"Honestly, Combeferre, I'm feeling better this morning-"

"Yes, but your heartbeat is still far from stable, and you're practically vibrating from the blood loss," Combeferre mumbled, setting his medical bag aside with a little sigh. "I'm telling you, mon petit, you will need bed rest for at least a week."

Enjolras let out a little moan, flinging his head back against the pillows. Combeferre bit his lip, watching his friend sadly. His heart broke at this thought, but he knew that when the day came for the barricades to rise, he would not hesitate from letting Enjolras do everything he wanted to do, and up until that day, he would try his hardest not to over-baby his friend. After all, seeing Enjolras utterly miserable and confined to bed rest was heartbreaking, and he knew the blond would be far happier risking his already-going-to-be-shortened life on the barricade than wasting away in a bed. These thoughts clouded Combeferre's eyes with tears, and he quickly removed his spectacles to wipe them away before facing Enjolras again.

"Joly's supposed to be by any moment now to watch you while I go to class," Combeferre said huskily, clearing his throat.

Enjolras let out a little sigh. "But Joly will go all doctoral on me and want to do a full blown examination-"

But no sooner could Enjolras continue on this rant than was there a knock at the door and Joly entered with a small smile, not even waiting for anyone to answer the door. "Good morning, mes amis," he smiled, obviously trying not to look too worried as his eyes scanned the blond in the bed. "Julien...How are you?"

"I'm alright," Enjolras mumbled weakly, offering him a small smile.

Ferre glanced down at his pocket watch and mumbled something to himself, getting to his feet. "Mon ami, you're just in time. My class starts in fifteen minutes."

"You go on ahead," Joly smiled kindly as Ferre gathered his things. "I'll stay here with Julien until you get back."

"Thank you," Combeferre grinned weakly before turning to Enjolras, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Take care of yourself while I'm gone, understand?"

Enjolras gave a little smile and nod before receiving one more platonic kiss from Ferre, watching as the medical student rushed out.

Joly sighed deeply, sitting in the chair by Enjolras's bedside and taking his friend's hand in his. "How are you feeling, mon ami?" he asked gently.

"Alright," the blond shrugged. "Weaker than I'd like..."

"Well, yes," Joly smiled. "That happens when you're sick."

"I know," Enjolras nodded. He fell silent for a moment before speaking again. "Umm... It hurt again yesterday."

Joly looked up in shock, his face struggling to remain under control. "Did it stop quickly? How long did it last? Did you pass out again?"

The blond revolutionary gave a deep sigh. "It turned into a dull throb within a few minutes. No I didn't pass out, and it lasted about forty seconds. Jehan was here."

Joly gave a relieved breath. "Okay, good. Then that's an improvement from last time. Have you eaten today?"

Enjolras nodded. "Yes. Soup."

"Good. How long have you been in bed?"

"Since I passed out," the blond groaned. "Ferre's been highly overprotective."

"I don't think so," Joly pressed his hand. "I think he's being just right in terms of protectiveness."

"In bed. All day," Enjolras arched a brow.

"Well you did pass out. Not to mention you've gone with an untreated heart condition for your entire life."

"But I'm better now!" Enjolras insisted.

"Can you sit up on your own?"

Enjolras was silent for several moments before speaking again. "Maybe. Sometimes."

"Exactly," the medical student crossed his arms.

The blond gave a deep sigh. "Joly did you just come over here to talk about how bad my health is?"

"No," Joly smiled kindly. "But I was just checking to make sure I know everything. Has anything else happened?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Alright," Joly sighed a little. "Well what did the doctor say when he was here a few days ago?"

Enjolras fell silent, thinking about the bloodletting that Joly was unaware of. "Umm... It's more serious than he thought. He...he tried bloodletting."

"He did?" Joly's head bolted up. "How did that go?"

"Uhh... It... Went," Enjolras mumbled sheepishly.

"That isn't an answer," Joly whispered gently.

"I'm...I'm a little worse off now because of it," the blond looked down.

"What?" the med student barely managed to contain his panic. "Why? What happened?"

"I...I pulled back a little," Enjolras mumbled, bright red.

"Did he use a dirty instrument? Do you have an infection?" Joly fretted, pulling Enjolras's sleeve back, trying to find the wound.

"No," the revolutionary pulled back a little. "I...he nicked an artery."

"What?!" Joly's eyes grew even wider. "How much blood did you lose!? What kind of doctor is he?! He doesn't know what he's doing if he nicked your artery!"

Enjolras shook his head. "No. It was my fault. I yanked back. I got scared." He sounded utterly embarrassed and ashamed as he looked down at his hands.

Joly spoke softer, not angry any more, holding Enjolras's hand again. "Of course you were scared. Some stranger was asking you to hold still while he came at you with a knife."

The blond shook his head. "No. I was being a baby."

"Enjolras," Joly all but whispered. "Don't you dare blame yourself. It doesn't really matter anyway. It happened, but now it's over."

The blond was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "Joly? Is it normal to feel very lightheaded, dizzy, and shaky after a substantial amount of blood loss?"

Joly gave a kind smile. "Yes. That is perfectly normal. So is sleeping a lot, and feeling quite tired and weak. It will be a while before you're in good health again."

Enjolras was silent. "Will I be able to do everything I did before? Speeches, rallies, barricade building..."

"After a few weeks, you'll be as good as new. Of course we'll be a little more protective of you than before, but I swear that when it comes time for the people to rise, you will be fully engaged and we will not interfere unless absolutely necessary."

The blond visibly relaxed. "Good." He was deadly silent for a second before speaking again. "Joly?"

"Yes?"

"I...Erm...Don't...Don't be a mean doctor," the blond whispered, sounding innocent, child-like.

The hypochondriac was a little taken aback. "I won't. I promise. Did you think I was going to be a mean doctor?"

"No, of course not," Enjolras shook his head quickly. "Just...I've recently acquired...A... Uhh... uncertainty around doctors... And it doesn't help when they're... Not exactly... Considerate."

"I'm sorry you're not very fond of us," the medical student mumbled kindly. "I promise, I will strive to be the kindest doctor possible. The last thing I want to do is frighten the people I'm trying to help."

Enjolras was quiet for a minute before talking again. "Can just you and Ferre take care of me from now on? I don't care that you aren't professionals."

Joly hesitated. "I would like to, but what if something happens beyond our control?"

The blond looked at him desperately. "Please?"

The hypochondriac sighed. "Alright. But if something over our heads happens, we are getting a real doctor, deal?"

Enjolras said nothing, but started shaking a little, swallowing thickly.

"Enjolras?" the med student grabbed his shoulders. "It's just a precaution, alright? To make sure you can get the best help you can."

The revolutionary took some deep breaths, trying to calm his speeding heart and nodded a tiny bit, eyes closed.

"And it will only be someone both Combeferre and I trust, not the man who was here before," Joly continued. "And we won't let him do anything to you that we wouldn't let him do to us. And we will be here the whole time, should the need for someone else arise."

Enjolras nodded again. "But... Another doctor is a last resort, right?"

"Yes," Joly swore. "Only if neither Combeferre or I know what to do?"

Enjolras smiled. "Thank you." He hesitated a little before talking again. "Do you think my heart's any better yet? I've been resting all day."

Joly chuckled slightly. "Let me see." He reached over, feeling the blond's pulse. "Well it still feels irregular. I haven't actually listened to it before, so I don't know if it's better or not. But I'd say the fact it hasn't passed out again makes it a good thing."

The blond beamed. "I told you, didn't I? May I get up now?"

"Are you even able to sit up on your own?" Joly asked gently.

"Yes," Enjolras replied stubbornly.

"Have you tired?"

There was an embarrassed pause from the revolutionary. "Umm...Not recently..."

"Were you successful when you did?"

"Semi-successful," the blond mumbled, looking down.

"Enjolras, it's only been a day! Just take it easy. You can try sitting up tomorrow," Joly mumbled softly. "In fact, I think maybe it's time for you to get some rest."

The blond nodded slightly, for once not arguing. "You'll be here? Or Ferre?"

"Yes. Or one of the others. I promise you won't wake up alone."

Enjolras, feeling suddenly very reliant on his friend's presence, nodded a little. "Alright. Thank you."

"You are welcome," Joly smiled kindly.

As he started to drift off, Enjolras silently took Joly's hand in his, needing the physical contact, drifting off almost instantly.

And Joly just smiled back down at his friend, squeezing his hand gently. "That's it, Enjolras. Rest. Sleep, for once in your life. And I promise, you will not be alone when you wake up."

* * *

Phew! Another chapter! I hope you all liked it! Review?

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	16. Chapter 16

Hey guys! So here's the next chapter! I know the past few have all kind of felt like fillers, but after this chapter, we're almost done... Four more to go after this, and the action picks up once more! So please, stay with me, and thanks for all you're support!

Disclaimer: Not Hugo, cousin co-wrote this, and Aaron Tveit cut all his hair off. Merr.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Sixteen:

A few hours later, Joly sat by Enjolras's bedside while Combeferre was still at university. The hypochondriac was running his fingers through the thick, curly blond locks, smiling at the peaceful, restful look on the younger revolutionary's face. Joly tried with all his might to keep his mind off the other boy's heart. That heart that condemned the blond to a life nobody deserved, and certainly not somebody who lived their entire lives for the people.

All at once, the door to the apartment opened and in walked Bahorel, looking awkward, nervous, worried, and hopeful all at once. "Enjolras? Ferre?"

Joly looked up. "Hello, Bahorel."

"Oh, hey, Joly. I didn't know you were here," Bahorel mumbled, his eyes trained on the blond in the bed. "Umm...How is he doing?"

Joly looked down and rubbed small circles with his thumb on Enjolras's hand. "He's... He's scared."

"I don't blame him," the bigger man muttered. "Having to live with something you can't outrun would be scary. So... Anything new happen?"

Joly gave a little nod. "Yes. He's... Um, there was a doctor that came and tried bloodletting... Julien got scared and jerked. An artery was nicked."

Bahorel looked confused. "That's bad...Isn't it? Will he be okay?"

"He'll be fine," the medical student promised, gesturing for Bahorel to pull up a chair. "He's just very weak right now. He needs rest and peace."

"Alright," the other student nodded slightly. He glanced over at Joly. "You look tired. How long have you been here?"

"I'm just worried for him. But I'm fine," Joly promised, though his eyes were darkly circled and drooping.

Bahorel smiled a little. "Why don't you go home and get some sleep. I'll watch him."

"Are you sure? You have to be very gentle with him. And don't leave his side until he wakes up. I promised he wouldn't wake up alone."

"Joly," the bigger revolutionary laughed a little. "Go home. I can handle him until Combeferre gets back."

The med student reluctantly got to his feet, looking apprehensively at the other man's huge size. "Just... Be gentle with him, alright?"

Behorel rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I'm not incompetent. Relax."

Joly nodded a little, gathering his things and running a hand through Enjolras's thick locks before leaving.

Bahorel tapped his fingers on his thighs, suddenly feeling very unsure. The boy in the bed was so small and looked so...fragile... The larger man felt incredibly aware of his massive size and swallowed, reluctantly reaching out a hand to brush a stray lock of hair out of Enjolras's eyes. He began speaking, quietly, shyly, to pass the time.

"We missed you at the meeting. Jehan lead it, just like you asked. He was a little nervous at first, but then he got really into it and he was great. Like, a different kind of inspiring than you, but still good. Then we talked about plans for recruiting. It was actually a short one because of...you know...everything that happened with you... Well, don't you worry about that. Just get better, alright? We love you, fearless leader."

Not two minutes later, the door to the flat opened and Combeferre stepped inside, instantly going over to the bedside, offering a small smile to Bahorel. "Good afternoon, mon ami," the bespectacled student whispered with a small smile. "How are you?" He took Joly's seat by the bed, reaching over and adjusting Enjolras's pillows, relieved the blond was finally getting some decent sleep.

"I'm alright," Bahorel whispered back. "Went recruiting with Feuilly earlier and got in a scrape, but ended up with five more men loyal to the cause."

Combeferre looked instantly worried. "Are you alright? You didn't get hurt did you?"

"No, just a few bruises," Bahorel shook his head.

"Good." Ferre was quiet for a minute, looking down at Enjolras, before speaking again. "Was he alright before I came in?"

Bahorel nodded. "Yes. He's just been sleeping." He paused, and then spoke again. "He's going to get better, right?" His voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Combeferre nodded as Bahorel had. "Of course." He watched Bahorel with a smile. "You can touch him, you know. You look as if he's a China platter."

"He looks so...breakable though," Bahorel whispered.

Combeferre shook his head. "You won't break him by touching him." Hesitantly, biting his lip, Bahorel reached over and brushed some thick gold locks out of Enjolras's eyes. The med student smiled, speaking quietly. "That's it. Easy... Told you. You're just fine. He's just fine, see?"

"I hate seeing him like this," the bigger man mumbled.

"I know. We all do. But he needs it. He needs comfort and tender-love-and-care from us once in a while."

"Yes," Bahorel muttered. "I've never been good at the whole comforting issue. Although I would love to go and have a chat with that doctor who made him worse."

"The best thing you can do right now is be here for him," Combeferre mumbled.

Suddenly, Enjolras rolled over in bed, latching onto a pillow, burying his face in the material. The other two students in the room stifled their laughter, and Bahorel shook his head. "So he does have a soft side."

Ferre gave a small smile, stroking Enjolras's hair, kissing his head. "He does. You just don't see it often."

"Yes," Bahorel muttered. "And Jehan's better at noticing things like that than I am."

"Well," Combeferre smiled. "You have a chance now, Bahorel. If you want."

"A chance to what?"

Combeferre shrugged slightly. "Comfort him. Be...gentle."

"How? He's sleeping. I don't want to wake him..."

The med student shrugged again. "He has a soft spot for people touching his hair, though he'll never admit it."

"Alright," Bahorel mumbled before reaching over and hesitantly running his fingers through the golden locks. Enjolras smiled a little in his sleep, relaxing into the touch. The bigger man grinned. "Wow. I didn't know people reacted in their sleep."

"Mmm," Combeferre nodded. "Pretty fascinating, hmm?"

Bahorel continued running his fingers through the thick locks. "Yes. It is." Suddenly, he got to a tangle in the golden hair and frowned, pulling back.

Combeferre laughed lightly. "It's alright." He gently loosened the tangle himself, softly and brother-like.

Hesitantly, Bahorel put his hand back into Enjolras's hair. "He...he doesn't sleep very much at all, does he?"

"No," Combeferre shook his head. "No he doesn't."

"He should," Bahorel mumbled. "It suits him."

"Yes...It's funny. Sleeping suits him very well." Combeferre paused for a moment with a gentle grin. "You're being as gentle with him as if he were an infant."

"Is that wrong?"

"No," Ferre smiled. "It's sweet. And it will be necessary for a while."

Bahorel smiled back and kept stroking Enjolras's hair, completely focused on his task. Combeferre watched with a gentle smile, his heart warmed by the sight. Gently, softly, the med student rose Enjorlas's shoulders off the bed and leant him against Bahorel gently, so the blond is in the bigger man's arms. The older student tensed, afraid to drop him, but then relaxed, holding him close. Enjolras relaxed against him, a small smile resting on his lips. Bahorel looked over at Combeferre, a mix of gratefulness and awe at Enjolras's reaction taking residence on his face. The med student smiled at the shockingly father/son moment, his eyes moist. Enjolras curled up closer to Bahorel, seeking the body heat. Bahorel held him closer, starting to hum a soft tune.

Combeferre had to smile. "You are a marvel, Bahorel."

The bigger man looked up. "What did I do?"

"You're just so gentle with him," the bespectacled man mumbled. "It's like...you're his father. I just... I've never seen him with a good father figure. I try but... I'm more of a brother. No question."

"Huh," Bahorel looked down at the blond in his arms. "I just did what felt right."

"Well you did perfectly," Combeferre beamed. "See how relaxed he is? And he's breathing more regularly again."

"I'm glad I'm helping," Bahorel mumbled happily.

Combeferre smiled, draping them both in a blanket. All of a sudden, Enjolras winced a little in his sleep, his brows furrowing. Bahorel looked down, a little panicked, before glancing over towards Ferre again. The med student shook his head, reaching over and feeling Enjolras's pulse. "He's okay. He's alright. It just hurts him sometimes. His heart is having to work double time to make up for the bloodloss, and it's so unstable as it is...He's fine."

Bahorel smiled a little and nodded. "Good. As long as he'll be alright."

"So..." Combeferre looked up. "Was Grantaire at the meeting last night?"

Bahorel's face fell instantly, and he looked away. "Um...No. No he wasn't. We haven't seen him since the night Enj got sick... And then he was drinking himself past the point of inebriation."

Combeferre's swallowed, and bit his lip. "That's what I was afraid of. That's _exactly_ what I was afraid of."

* * *

Phew! Another chapter done! I hope you all liked it! Please, if you have anything to say, review! Thanks for sticking around this far into the story! Just four more chapters! Enjoy!

Stay revolutionary!

~Rosey


	17. Chapter 17

Hey all! Alright, here's the chapter you've all been waiting for... Grantaire. I hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not Hugo, cousin co-wrote this, and I'm hungry.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Seventeen:

It was midnight, or somewhere near that. Enjolras had woken up a few hours ago to eat some soup and talk to Combeferre, but now, once more, the blond was asleep, and for that, Combeferre was grateful. The more rest Enjolras could get, the better. So now, the bespectacled student was once more by the bedside, stroking golden curls and trying his best to stay awake and watch over his weakened friend.

When there was a knock on the door, Combeferre jumped almost three feet in the air. Who on Earth in their right minds would be knocking at midnight on his door? Sighing heavily, wiping his spectacles, the med student gently stood up from the bedside and went to see who the mysterious visitor was.

Pulling the door open, Combeferre couldn't help the mild frustration that rose inside him. There, hair disheveled, eyes darkly circled, face unshaved, clothes rumpled, stood Grantaire, looking down at his toes. Combeferre waited for him to say something, and when he didn't, the med student spoke up a little coolly. "About time you showed up."

"Thought he wouldn't want to see me," Grantaire mumbled. Combeferre was surprised when his voice wasn't slurring.

"He thought the same thing," the bespectacled student all but grumbled. "But I knew you couldn't stay away forever."

Grantaire glared at how true this was, but said nothing. The other young man watched him for a minute before speaking. "Well. Come on in. But be quiet. He's resting."

The drunkard nodded a little, shuffling in after Combeferre. When his eyes landed on the blond in the bed, they grew wide and horrified, but he said nothing, taking a tentative seat next to Enjolras. After a long pause, the scruffy student finally found his voice. "How long's he been like that?"

"Like what?"

"Asleep."

"A lot longer than usual. About five now, and several more earlier."

"That's longer than usual?" Grantaire looked concerned.

"Mmmhmm," Combeferre nodded. "Usually it's about two."

"S'not normal," the drunkard muttered darkly.

"No it's not," Combeferre replied simply. "He never sleeps enough, even when totally healthy. He always puts work and the cause above his own personal needs."

"Does he have that insomnia thing?"

"No. He just...doesn't always have his priorities sorted out right."

There was a long, pregnant pause. Suddenly, Enjolras shifted a little, his eyes blinking sleepily open. Grantaire immediately looked down at him, but kept a blank face. Enjolras just looked back at him, obviously not fully believing he was there. Finally, the cynic wasn't able to keep quiet any longer and he blurted out "What?"

"Are you really here?" Enjolras asked weakly, brows furrowing a little.

"Hallucinate about me often, Apollo?" the drunkard grinned wickedly.

Combeferre shot him a warning look, and Enjolras spoke angrily. "If you're just here to infuriate me, you may leave."

"That's not why I'm here," Grantaire grumbled, looking away.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Coming to visit you," the cynic looked back up at him, a spark of hopefulness in his eyes.

"Really?" Enjolras arched a brow, looking skeptical.

"Yes, really," Grantaire replied gruffly. "What, everyone else can come see you, but I can't?"

The blond shrugged a little. "Figured you hated me."

Hurt flashed across the cynic's face for a second, and then was gone. "Well, I don't. You think I'd stick around to have you insult me all the time if I hated you?"

"Yes," Enjolras snapped back. "To insult me."

"Ha," Grantaire gave a short laugh. "I wouldn't waste my time on someone I hate. I'd just hit them, or leave."

The blond glared fiercely, his face terrible, almost looking like the old Enjolras once more, ready to jump into a brawl to support the cause. "You'd like to hit me, wouldn't you? You've been waiting for years."

"I wouldn't dare..." Grantaire almost whispered, backing up a little.

Enjolras tried to sit up, anger in his eyes, his breathing growing ragged. "Doesn't mean you don't want to."

"Hey, calm down," the cynic mumbled weakly. "I really didn't come here to fight with you."

Combeferre gently pushed Enjolras back down, subtly monitoring his pulse. "Shh, Enj, just hear him out. Shh, now."

"I..." Grantaire began, blinking rapidly. "I was worried about you. Heard something went wrong with the doctor." Hesitating a moment, the drunkard reached over to put a hand on his shoulder. When he did, the younger revolutionary flinched a little, as if expecting to be hit. The cynic instantly dropped his hand away as if burned by the flinch. The blond looked up instantly at Grantaire with immensely apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry..." He mumbled quietly as Ferre silently stepped aside.

"S'fine," the drunkard mumbled helplessly. "Don't know why I did that."

Enjolras quickly shook his head. "No. No, it's fine. I just...I was being foolish. I'm being foolish. I'm sorry." Hesitantly, Enjolras reached over and took Grantaire's hand in his, pressing it lightly. The drunkard stared, shocked, and their hands, completely frozen. Enjolras meanwhile just closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. Grantaire hesitantly squeezed his hand and just watched him breathe, afraid to say anything to ruin the moment.

Finally, the cynic found his voice, rubbing small circles with his thumb on Enjolras's hand. "Apollo? You alright?"

Enjolras just nodded a little, not opening his eyes. "Mmmhmm."

Grantaire smiled down at their hands. "I'm sorry for acting like that. I know we're not supposed to get you riled up. I guess we're going to have to learn to have real conversations instead of arguments for a while."

The blond gave a small chuckle. "Yes. I suppose we will." He paused for a moment before speaking again. "You're not completely inebriated."

"Not at the moment, no," Grantaire shook his head. "I was gonna try and come completely sober, but turns out I'm a coward without a little alcohol in my system. I mean, I figured I was kind of the reason you were bad off, and last time I saw you, you just stormed out... And I...I...I guess I just figured I was kind of the last person you'd want to see." He fell silent, looking down, playing with Enjolras's fingers unconsciously.

Enjolras looked directly at Grantaire. "It's not your fault, R. Honestly." He let Grantaire continue to play with his fingers, entwining them.

"But..." the cynic mumbled weakly. "But I said all those things, and you just left. I didn't expect you to leave, because you never do, usually you just sit there and yell right back at me. I thought I had finally pushed you over the limit and you were done with me." His voice kept getting softer, but the grip on Enjolras's hand got tighter, like he was drawing as much comfort from it as Enjolras was.

Enjolras just watched their hands, silently. "I'll always come back."

The drunkard laughed bitterly. "I'll never understand why."

Enjolras just shrugged slightly. "Me either."

Grantaire finally looked the blond in the eye, understanding exactly what he meant. At length, he spoke again. "I...erm...I guess I was wrong about you. Sorry for always acting like you're some kind of statue. I should have known better. There's no way a statue could care this much. I wish I knew how to change so you wouldn't be so disappointed in me all the time. I don't know how to care like you do. I'm not that strong."

Enjolras smiled a little. "I'm sorry I make you feel like you need to change."

"It's not just you," Grantaire mumbled. "I know I'm not worth much the way I am."

The blond shook his head sleepily. "You're worth a lot. I just don't tell you enough."

"Don't bother with sparing my feelings, Apollo. I know I don't exactly contribute to society."

Enjolras chuckled shortly, tightening his grip on Grantaire's hand. "If I wasn't on medicine."

"See?" Grantaire grumbled. "You don't even know what you're saying. As soon as you wake up, you're going to regret this. And I'll agree to pretend like this never happened, if that's what you want."

The blond shrugged a little. "Or we could use this moment. Kind of a keepsake."

Almost to himself, the cynic muttered, "I treasure any moment you give me."

"And I you," Enjolras smiled.

Grantaire completely froze for a moment, sure he had heard wrong. "You what?"

"Not saying it again." Silently, Enjolras brought Grantaire's hand closer, so it was resting directly over his heart.

Still in shock at the admission, Grantaire pressed his hand against Enjolras's chest so he could feel his heart beat. He paused for several minutes before speaking again. "Why?"

"You give so little time to so little things. I'm honored to be one of those things, even if it is just to argue." His heart beat quickly and unevenly against Grantaire's hand.

The cynic's own heart was beating rather fast, and he flinched when he noticed how different his pulse was from that of the blond in the bed. "You're really the thing that's worth while."

Enjolras gave a small, sad smile. "Yes. Because you don't love Patria."

Grantaire gave a little sigh. "The best I can do is watch. Maybe if I watch enough it will be real for me some day."

The blond chuckled a little, starting to drift off. Grantaire just pressed his hand to Enjolras's heart again, just to feel the beating, holding his hand close. After a long pause, Combeferre spoke up. "How's his heart feeling?"

"Don't know," Grantaire mumbled. "I'm not the doctor here. But...it's not like mine." He was quiet for a moment. "This is the first time I've seen him not fired up about something."

Combeferre chuckled. "It's a rarity, that's for sure."

Grantaire took a deep breath. "Combeferre I...I didn't mean to make him worse. I don't know why I do that..."

"It's not your fault Taire-"

"Should have just kept my mouth shut... I've never been much good at that..."

"Hey, he's alright, he's here now-"

"But what if you hadn't gone after him!?" Grantaire all but exploded. "He would have died, wouldn't he?! He almost died, and it's my fault! And when he wakes up, he's just going to hate me again..."

"No," Combeferre shook his head softly. "He won't. He isn't on any medication. There's no medicine to fix this other than rest. He just needed to let you know how he felt and so he pretended to be on medication."

The cynic looked at the med student for several minutes, letting the information process in his head. "He... he did that on his own?"

"Yes. But don't tell him I told you so. Now shut up and take care of your Apollo." The bespectacled revolutionary smiled kindly.

Grantaire looked down, open-mouthed, at his Enjolras, running his hands through the golden curls. "You meant it..." Enjolras gave a small near-whimper in his sleep, and Grantaire looked at Combeferre worriedly. "He sounds like he's hurting..."

"He is hurting," Combeferre mumbled softly. "It hurts him to breathe right now. His heart is having to work over-time, and it's already messed up."

Grantaire looked down at Enjolras, wishing he could trade places with him, tightening his grip on the other man's hand, resting his forehead against the blond's. "He's going to get better, Combeferre. I know he is."

And, for the first time all week, Combeferre gave a genuine smile and nodded. "Yes. I do believe he might."

* * *

Woohoo longest chapter so far! Well, I hope you all enjoyed getting some adorable Enjolras/Grantaire fluffiness! In the next chapter things start looking up, so stick around!

Review?

~Rosey


	18. Chapter 18

Alright, everyone! Another chapter! I hope you all are enjoying this so far, and thank you all a million times over for sticking with it after so many months! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not Hugo, cousin co-wrote this chapter, and I want to play Cosette sooner rather than later, thank you very much.

~Rosey

* * *

Chapter Eighteen:

The two weeks passed faster than any of the Amis thought they would, especially Enjolras. In fact, though he would never admit it, the care and love from his friends was more soothing and wonderful than anything he had known his entire life. The tender love from Combeferre was especially touching… Never in his life had Enjolras realized just how much he truly needed his older brother. Of course, the affections from the other Amis (namely Grantaire, though Enjolras would die before he admitted it) were equally meaningful. And day-by-day, the blond felt his strength returning to him, and little by little, his heart and breathing weren't paining him anymore, but rather starting to feel as they had before he collapsed. Finally, things were starting to look up again.

On the Monday after the two weeks were over, Combeferre walked into the bedroom and sat by Enjolras, taking his hand with a smile. "Julien, how are you feeling today?"

The blond smiled. "Well. Quite well. And this time I'm not just saying it to get you off my back."

Combeferre smiled back. "I'm glad." He looked for all the world like he wanted to say something, but was hesitating.

Enjolras looked closer at him. "What's wrong, Ferre?"

"Well…You've been in bed for a few weeks, and you've been improving quite a bit these past few days…" the med student hesitated.

A small smile grew on the younger revolutionary's face. "Yes?"

"Well…" Combeferre mumbled. "I think you might be able to get up soon."

Enjolras sat up happily, real joy in his face. "Really?"

"Yes…But I would like to get a second opinion," the bespectacled student ventured.

The blond nodded. "Of course. Joly."

"Umm…Well," Combeferre looked down. "I was thinking we should get a real doctor." He eyed his friend in the bed warily.

Enjolras's face instantly fell, and his eyes dropped as his shoulders tensed. "Oh."

"But all it would be is a check up, no procedures, no bloodletting, just someone to say if I'm right about you getting out of bed," Combeferre hurried on quickly.

Enjolras swallowed a little, and then nodded reluctantly, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. "Oh. Alright."

"And I will be here the whole time. And I promise it will be someone I trust," Combeferre pressed his hand.

Enjolras nodded a little. "Alright. If you'll be here."

"The whole time," Combeferre promised with a smile.

The revolutionary smiled back. "Then that's alright. When will he be here?"

"I sent for him earlier while you were sleeping. He should be here soon," Combeferre mumbled.

A small laugh escaped Enjolras's lips. "So he was coming weather I said yes or not?"

"Well, if you said no, I would have asked him to leave. But he's busy and I know you want to get out of bed as soon as possible," Combeferre pushed his hair out of his eyes.

Enjolras gave a little nod. "That's true." He began looking nervous, however, fiddling with the blanket.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Combeferre looked at Enjolras, making sure he was alright with the med student answering it. "I'll be right back, alright? It's the doctor Courfeyrac took you to. The kind one... Plamondon, I think it was?"

Enjolras instantly felt a little more at ease, though he couldn't deny the clamminess in his palms or the rushing of his uneven pulse.

Not five minutes later, Plamondon and Combeferre walked into the room, both smiling comfortingly at the blond, taking a seat by the bed. Combeferre grabbed Enjolras's hand, squeezing comfortingly, and the doctor smiled kindly at him.

"Hello again, Monsieur Enjolras. How wonderful to see you again," he beamed politely, offering his hand for Enjolras to shake.

Nervously, Enjolras accepted the handshake. "Thank you. It's nice to see you again as well."

"Well I'm just here to listen to your heart and do a general check up. Is that alright?"

The blond nodded nervously. "Yes. That's fine."

The doctor smiled his thanks and opened his black bag, pulling out his ear trumpet and pulling open Enjolras's nightshirt, listening to his heartbeat. "Alright, I need you to take a few deep breaths for me, alright?"

Combeferre squeezed his hand tightly as Enjolras shakily did as he was instructed to. "That's it," Plamondon smiled. "Now another, please…? Better, you are doing wonderfully. Your heart sounds much better than when I last listened to it. Those weeks of rest truly helped."

Combeferre beamed at his friend. "See? You're doing fine!"

After a few minutes, the doctor finished the examination and sat back, smiling. "Well, Julien, you seem to be stable, with a strong pulse, although of course the heart condition hasn't gone away. Keep in mind that you still need to take it easy and not allow yourself to get too worked up, but I think it's high time you got out of this bed and got some exercise."

All at once, Enjolras's body relaxed and an utterly relieved look filled his face, lighting it up beautifully. "Really?"

"Yes," the elderly man chuckled. "But listen to me, if you feel winded or light-headed at all, you should sit for a few minutes and you must take things easily for a few more weeks. I suggest you keep your friends close. But you can get out of bed, and go back to an almost normal routine."

By this point, the blond was all but bouncing up and down to get out of bed, a wide smile on his face. "Yes, I understand."

The doctor laughed kindly, getting up to go. "I'll want a follow up appointment in a few weeks, but after that, you're rid of me. Let me know if something happens, and have a wonderful day."  
Combeferre grinned, getting to his feet to show the doctor out. "Thank you, doctor. We'll take good care of him."

Not five minutes later, Combeferre came back into the room to find Enjolras on his feet, unsteady, but looking elated, a look rarely on that marble countenance. The older student went to his side, laughing. "Take it easy, mon petit. Let me help you."

Enjolras smiled, letting Combeferre help steady him. "It feels so good to be on my feet again…"

"It's good to see you on your feet again," the med student chuckled, helping him to his wardrobe. Enjolras hurriedly putting on his trousers and waistcoat, his hair a mess and his face pale, though he didn't care. Combeferre laughed. "Julien, slow down a bit! You are practically running. Give yourself a chance to adjust. I would hate for you to end up back in bed because you overdid it in the first five minutes."

Enjolras chuckled and nodded a little, pulling on his boots and coat, his hair a mess. "Alright, alright, I'll be careful."

"You might want to fix your hair before you go out, though," the med student laughed.

"Hmm?" Enjolras looked into the mirror and winced a little. "Oh…"

Combeferre laughed again, pulling on his own coat and boots as Enjolras ran a hand through his hair, which really only made it worse, though he was far from caring. "Hurry up, Combeferre!" the blond called.

"Alright, alright, I'm ready," the med student laughed, meeting the blond at the door and walking out with him, locking the flat behind him. "Where are we going?"

"The Musain!" Enjolras smiled widely, looking so youthful and happy in that moment Combeferre tried to imprint it into his mind as he grinned.

"Don't even know why I asked."

Enjolras chuckled a little. "I miss it so much."

"We have all missed you too," Combeferre laughed, relieved to see Enjolras up and enthusiastic again.

"You've all come to see me multiple times," Enjolras smiled as they walked, about ten minuets from the Musain.

"It hasn't been the same, though."

"No. I suppose it hasn't."

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Right, so, I'm a liar... This is the second to last chapter. One more to go! I know this one is rather short, but it ties all the loose ends together and yay! Enjolras is alright!

Stick around for the final chapter, please! Almost there!

Review?

~Rosey


	19. Epilogue

Alright everybody! Here it is...The final chapter! Thanks a million times over to everyone who's stuck with this story from the beginning, and keep an eye out for four more Les Miserables chapter books my cousin and I have in the works... The first chapter for each of them should be up in a week or two! So, subscribe, my dears, and keep an eye out for those new stories!

And now, on to the final installment of "A Revolutionary Heart!"

Disclaimer: You know the drill by now.

~Rosey

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Epilogue:

Two weeks later, Enjolras and Jehan were walking along an old side-road near a forest, the poet's favorite walking trail. The blond student remembered his promise to take an hour off to go for a walk with Jehan, and to be honest, he was fully enjoying it. Jean's soothing, warm voice and the cool breeze were better than any medicine a doctor could procure, and he was breathing easier than he could remember ever doing in his life, even before his heart started acting up. Both he and the poet had discarded their coats a while back, and now Enjolras was so at ease he was even considering loosening his cravat and taking his hair out of the ponytail and goodness, it really was time for a haircut...

"I said aren't the clouds nice today, Julien?" Jehan's voice cut through the blond's thoughts, causing Enjolras to glance over at him quickly.

"Oh, yes," Enjolras chuckled a little. "I suppose they are. I'm afraid I don't usually notice things like clouds too much..."

"That's because you're always looking down!" Jehan laughed. "I do declare this must be the first time you've taken a walk in nature! Or at least, the first one that hasn't been taken just to get somewhere."

Enjolras ran a hand through his wind-blown hair. "Yes. I believe you're right."

"So, how are you feeling, Julien?" Jehan asked, stopping to pick a flower and lace it into his braid. "You're so much more robust than you were even last week."

"I feel fine, Jehan," Enjolras smiled. "Honestly. I really do. Practically my normal self again. Of course, my heart still bothers me from time to time, but it's nothing I can't handle, and I've learned to deal with it anyhow."

The poet returned his smile, sadly. "I still wish I could take away your pain, Julien."

The blond shook his head. "Jehan, please. Each of the Amis have said those words to me at least once this past month. The fact of the matter is, though, you can't. None of you can. But you _can_ let me know you don't view me differently, or pity me, or want to replace me as leader of the Amis just because I have a little heart condition."

"One," Jehan wrinkled his freckled nose. "Of course we don't view you differently. Two, if you think we'd _ever_ replace you, you're utterly mad. And three, I think we've basically established it's not a 'little' heart condition. It's something to be taken seriously."

Enjolras sighed, looking away. "Yes. You're right as always, mon ami. I suppose it was rather a...hinderance there for a bit, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Jehan nodded solemnly. "But Enjolras, aren't you glad that's done now? Now we can make sure it doesn't happen again, and life can go on as normally as before! Or, as next to normal as it was, rather."

The blond chuckled a little. "Yes. I suppose it can."

The poet stooped to pick another flower and, with a teasing smile, hooked it into Enjolras's blond locks. "Just admit it. The Amis were right. You need to take better care of yourself."

Enjolras bit his lip and nodded a little. "Yes...I admitted that to myself a long time ago. I'm just to pigheaded to admit it."

Jehan chucked. "Yes. That's one of you're more...dominating qualities." He stepped in front of Enjolras suddenly, then, and took his friend's arms in his hands. "But you're also kind, and selfless, and loyal, and smart, and very, very dear to an awful lot of people. So don't you forget that either."

The other revolutionary was silent for a minute before a beautiful smile spread across his marble face. "Thank you, Jehan. I'm afraid I forget those more redeeming qualities about myself sometimes."

"That comes with the selfless bit," Jehan said wisely. "You rarely think about yourself, or what you need or want. You don't demand the spotlight unless you're giving a speech, and then that's for someone else. For the people. You don't try and be the center of attention apart from when it's necessary for the cause, and you don't dwell on your own personal abilities and necessities. So it's up to the rest of us to make sure you remember just how special you truly are."

Enjolras offered him a weak smile, nodding. "Yes. Thank you for that."

The two continued on for a while in silence, comfortable in each other's company, occasionally stopping for Jehan to pick a flower and loop it into either Enjolras's hair, or his own. Usually, the blond would have protested bitterly against having his hair decorated with such silly things as flowers, but even Grantaire couldn't put Enjolras in a bad mood today. It was far too lovely out for that, and besides, nobody could be in a bad mood while taking a walk with Jean Prouvaire.

Eventually, Enjolras broke the silence. "Jehan?"

"Yes, mon fleur?"

"When the time comes...You all won't prevent me from fighting, will you?"

The poet was quiet for a minute before pressing his hand and smiling. "No. Of course not. That day is the day you live for, and stopping you from fighting would be the cruelest thing any of us could do. You're like an angel, mon ami. Put on this Earth to save unknowing victims, and ready to return Home when the time and day comes."

Enjolras smiled at him sadly. "Thank you, mon ami." He paused a minute before lightening the mood with a small laugh. "I definitely picked you correctly to lead the meetings while I was gone... You speak wonderfully."

"Thank you," the poet blushed. "I was... I am... very flattered." Jehan glanced down at his pocket watch. "Well, we best start heading back. Combeferre will have a panic attack if we're late...Think something happened to you again."

"Yes, I suppose we better," Enjolras nodded, slipping his coat back on. "And Jehan? Thank you so much for this afternoon. It's been lovely."

"Oh, it's been my pleasure!" the freckle-faced boy beamed. "Don't forget, we're doing it again Wednesday."

"I won't," Enjolras promised. "It's been nice actually...Taking a break. Even if just for an hour."

"Yes," Jehan chuckled. "I told you it would! Oh! And have you heard? There's to be a new boy at the meeting today! One of Courfeyrac's friends."

"Really?" the blond glanced over at the poet. "What's his name?"

"Marius something-or-another," Jean replied, ducking to avoid a tree branch. "If he has differing views than you, Enjolras, please, for all our sakes, don't get yourself worked up and argue with him."

"So long as he's not a Monarchist or Bonapartist, I think I'll be just fine," Enjolras chuckled warmly, ruffling the poet's hair. "Now come along. We're going to be late."

And with that, the beautiful poet and the revolutionary angel headed back once more to the Cafe Musain.

_The End_

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And just like that, it's over. Wow...I'm kind of in shock that this story is actually ended... I've been working on it so long, it seems! Well, thank you ALL for your wonderful, continuous support, PLEASE subscribe to me to get alerts on my other "Miz" stories soon to be up, and always stay revolutionary!

Review? It really would mean the world to me.

With love,

Rosey


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